


Moments of Closeness

by angweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Drama & Romance, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Love, Romantic Friendship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-17 15:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angweasley/pseuds/angweasley
Summary: Harry and Hermione have always had a deep bond, a strong connection that has been a constant in Harry's life since he was 11 years old. When this bond shifts one particular Halloween, shifts into something not easily explained, the two struggle to define what it means and what will come of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the idea for this story swimming in my head for years now so we'll see how it fares actually written out. This is also my first posting on A03 so let's see how it goes! (My usual home is that other fanfiction site that ends with NET but I wanted to leave the neighborhood).
> 
> It's going to be a short fic and it is epilogue compliant in nature. Probably the most important thing I can say about this story is that it's not a plot with smut-- it's smut with a plot. Just a heads up for those whose cup of tea that may not be. Also, if the characters do anything that seems OOC, well, you probably have a point but that's why I'm not JKR and this is just a small musing of my brain meant to pass time.

It was late in the Ministry of Magic, so late that the only occupants who roamed the empty hallways were those employed for custodial duties and maintenance. They went about cleaning duly yet diligently, even with the aid of magic, counting the minutes until the time they would be allowed to return to their homes. They were very unaware that on the level that housed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, particularly where the Auror Department was designated, a spacious office toward the back, that belonged to Harry Potter in fact, was currently occupied. The cleaning crews did not enter offices unless requested by their respective wizards but no request had been placed for this particular room on this night. One of the people inside the office was Harry Potter himself, in the middle of shrugging off his Auror robes with urgency, while the other person was a witch, connected to him by the lips and holding the sides of his face firmly, breathing erratically.

The couple had been in his office together for only minutes but during that time he had immediately pounced on her and commenced their kissing while she had managed to rid herself of her own robes. Harry had been in an extremely late running meeting earlier that night that had only adjourned 15 minutes beforehand, while his companion had been holed up in her own office dealing with her significant workload past hours as she sometimes did. Conversely, she dropped her Muggle pen the moment a stag Patronus had come cantering silently yet powerfully into the room, and pushed away from the desk in order to hurry to leave her office for his. The customary pull of anticipation, lust, and grief started to manifest the moment she saw the stag.

As it were now, the two were engrossed wholly in one another. Harry's robes finally pooled at his feet, giving his arms much more freedom, and he exhaled deeply, ready to have his way with her. Continuing to kiss fervently, he pushed against her a bit roughly after molding their bodies and then his hands flew to her backside. Using the curves of her bottom as a base, he used his Auror trained muscles to lift her from the floor and reposition her around his waist. She inhaled sharply and instantly wrapped her legs around his middle for better support, hands shooting to his head in order to get lost in his messy black hair. They stayed in this position for a short period while they explored each other's mouths and their tongues lapped against the other's greedily. Whatever they did, it was never enough.

One of Harry's hands held her steady but the other crept underneath her shirt, touching and gripping every inch of bare skin it could. She arched her back in response and finally detached her mouth from his, only to move it right near his left ear where her tongue darted out and began licking the shell of it. At this, he grunted; it was time for more.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and walked them forward rapidly toward his large desk. Once there, Harry set her down and began to immediately unbutton her shirt, finding her lips again with tenacity. The woman responded eagerly, reaching for his waist and pulling him to her as close as space would allow. She had opened her legs wider to accommodate him and when he was in between them she let out a small moan from the feeling of his obvious erection.

Harry answered the noise she had emitted by taking her hand and placing it on his hard cock, thrusting forward twice.

"This is what you do to me," he growled in her ear before sucking on her neck. She let out a much louder moan from the feel of his dick and his mouth working her neck. No matter how many times they did this, how many times they explored each other's bodies it was continually the most stimulating and arousing moments they experienced. Her shirt was fully open and Harry hastily removed it from her torso, reveling in the sight of her breasts supported by a lacy black bra. He only stared at them for a handful of seconds before his hands were underneath the material, squeezing and massaging her breasts while they kissed once more, fueled by their increasing lust. She was whimpering now as he fondled her chest and she realized she was pulsating intensely at her center. Her hands shot to his pants and she undid his button and zipper with frenzy.

Harry groaned when he felt her at his fly. His dick was throbbing painfully and he could only think of being inside of her as quickly as possible. With this in mind he rapidly unhooked her bra; she let it fall off her and he threw the garment off to the side. His mouth immediately enveloped her right breast now that she was fully exposed.

"Harry!  _Oh_ …" she breathed with a gasp, hands now grasping his neck. The witch lost herself in the sensation for a while, her eyes fluttering shut as his tongue lapped. It only lasted for a short period, however, because both of them were practically fit to burst.

"Now," she asserted, breathing heavily and moving his head away from her chest. She gazed at him, "Now!"

She slipped her hand inside his boxers and seized his member, stroking it expertly and eagerly. Harry's head fell back some and he gripped the edge of the desk.

"God," he groaned out, hips starting to move of their own accord as they followed her pull.

She did not pump him for too long because watching his reaction and hearing those noises issue from him was practically torture to her; they were a reminder of what he could be doing to her body. When she could not stand it any longer and felt ready to pounce, she released her hold and used both hands to move his pants and boxers down his hips until his erect penis was out in the open.

The woman stared at it momentarily, a wild look in her brown eyes. Consequently, Harry's own gaze was now wholly hungry and dominant, nearly animalistic. Their trysts were not always so roughly passionate but, when they were, the two were utterly consumed. He moved forward hurriedly and pushed her back on the surface while one hand zoomed to the back of her black skirt and pulled down the zipper as far as it would allow. She bristled with anticipation and made to remove her black heels.

"Leave them." Harry ordered. She stared at him. What did he have in mind?

Conversely, in the following instance, everything left her thoughts because he had joined her on the desk and shoved her skirt up until it bunched around her waist. Harry then pushed into her swiftly and possessively while he released a low, satisfied moan. As he started to thrust between her legs without delay, the subconscious part of her brain reflected on when this- this dangerous and intoxicating part of their lives- had begun.

…

Halloween. It was always on Halloween. Harry's troubles involving the holiday had been present since he had discovered it was the day his parents had been murdered, but they had become more pronounced after the Second War had ended. Simply put, Halloween was not a good time for him. His subtle withdrawal usually started on October 30th and, while he remained present at work, home, and with friends in a physical sense, he was not present mentally. Following the first three Halloweens with a sullen, nearly silent Harry, and after many attempts to get him to talk about what was upsetting him, his kin learned to begrudgingly let him be. Knowing it was less cumbersome and disheartening to temporarily remove her children from their home than let them see their father in such a glum state, Ginny Potter did just that. She took the children to spend the night at her parents' house on Halloween and they enjoyed it because there was always at least one Weasley cousin also staying over. This left Ginny to merely support her husband without interruptions by staying by his side physically since she could not do so verbally. They hardly ever went out on these nights with their friends to parties or balls because Harry would only brood by himself in a corner, so more often than not they remained at home or went on quiet walks. Ron and Hermione, the ones the couple spent the most time with, normally would go out to commemorate the holiday after taking their own children trick or treating, but not always.

On this particular Halloween, Hermione's parents were delighted to babysit in order to give their daughter and son-in-law a free night for themselves. The pair then decided to spend their time with Harry and Ginny, the latter of whom was grateful and happy they had shown up to give the former additional support. Harry had never truly informed them of what he suffered through every October but the three suspected it had something to do with his parents' death: an exceptionally grim anniversary of their passings. The quartet ordered take out and then watched a horror film in the Potters' living room while they ate brownies Ginny had made. Harry participated in these activities and even cracked a smile or two from Ron's jokes, but it all changed when they were seated at the table talking and drinking their first glasses of wine. Without really thinking, Ron made a derisive joke about Halloween, Voldemort masks, and children running around incessantly shouting out the Killing Curse with toy wands.

Harry's eyes shot to his best friend's face, giving him a very hard, intense stare, and then he sprang up from his chair and abruptly left the dining room. The others gawked at his departure, clearly shocked by this action, but they scrambled to follow him moments later.

"Harry! Harry, wait!" Ginny called as they rushed after him. He started up the staircase without replying or looking back and they congregated at the bottom, watching his progress.

"What you said upset him." Hermione reported when Harry was out of sight, peering at her husband.

"I-I didn't think, I didn't mean to!-" Ron stammered fretfully.

"We know, Ron," Ginny assured as the brunette squeezed his hand, "I just don't know if he'll come back down.  _Damn_ Halloween!"

"I'll… I'll go talk to him!"

"That's great, love, but you  _were_  the one to say something." Hermione reminded, frowning regretfully.

"Then you go, Ginny! You're his wife." Ron directed.

"Yes, the wife he pulls away from on this day every year. Nothing I've tried has been very successful up to this point," she sighed, "Hermione, perhaps you should go." The Muggleborn looked surprised.

"Yeah. You're good with words; Harry's always listened to you."

"Always is an overstatement," Hermione remarked, looking at the second landing nervously, "I don't know… but if you want."

"It's worth a try." Ginny said. Ron kissed his spouse's cheek and she took it as a sign. A feeling of doubt flickered in Hermione's stomach as she ascended the staircase in search for Harry.

The witch found him in the third room she tried: the upstairs guest bedroom. (The other rooms upstairs were Lily's bedroom and Ginny's office). She had checked the master first and James' and Albus' room second, and she saw him sitting in a chair facing the window, body slumped over with his forehead resting against his left fist. Hermione frowned somewhat and silently exhaled as she studied him for a moment. It had always been a difficult game of chance when dealing with Harry's infamous moods. She did not say anything as she slipped inside and deftly shut the door behind her. She took the ottoman at the foot of the queen sized bed and dragged it to where he was, placing it right in front of him. Harry did not look at her through any of this or even when she was seated and staring at him quietly; it was not until Hermione put a hand on his knee that his penetrating gaze focused on her face.

"Harry," she commenced in a gentle tone, "I'm not going to beg or plead with you to tell me what's upsetting you, what upsets you  _every_  Halloween. But you have to know that we love you and it's hard for us to watch you go through this."

He took a bit before replying.

"Love?," Harry croaked, still peering at her, "What has love ever gotten me?"

She appeared dumbfounded, not having expected a response such as this.

"W-What… what do you mean?"

"What has it gotten me, Hermione?  _Where_ has it gotten me?"

"It's… it's gotten you everything, Harry! It's priceless!," she proclaimed, looking puzzled, "You have an amazing wife because of it, beautiful children, a-and devoted friends! Not to mention the love of countless others whom have passed on now, the ones you meant the absolute world to. Your mother's love saved your very life!"

"Yeah, well it didn't do much for hers, did it?" he remarked bluntly. The brunette's mouth fell open and her brow furrowed. What was he saying?

"Do you know what I'm reminded of every Halloween, Hermione? Every person who died because of  _me_ ," Harry revealed, not breaking eye contact, "It starts with my parents, the two who brought me into the world but then had to leave it one year later because some insane bastard wanted me dead! Then it progresses to Cedric, who was with me in the graveyard and had  _no_ idea what was happening, then  _Sirius_ , who was fighting for me, then Dumbledore, who fucking  _planned_ to die if need be! Then Remus, and Tonks! Fred! Snape! Mad Eye!-"

"Harry, it wasn't your fault! We've been over that!" Hermione interjected before he could continue naming the dead.

"Everyone says that but it's really hard to convince yourself otherwise when you know their deaths all had one thing in common:  _you_!," Harry ruefully countered, "Do you know what it's like carrying that guilt around? Knowing numerous people lost their lives because of you?"

"It wasn't solely you, Harry! It was a cause, a  _war_! War always claims lives, no matter what the nature! They all died because they believed in the same thing as you and knew it would be worth it if the time came- we  _all_ felt that way!"

"Well it doesn't seem like it was worth it to me half the time. It seems miserable," he noted, his voice breaking, "I go on living without them and it's like I'm being taunted. I think how my kids will never know their grandparents, Teddy will never know his mum and dad, the Weasleys will never be truly complete without F-Fred…" She tenderly placed a hand on his left cheek, unshed tears in her eyes.

"Oh Harry…" Hermione murmured.

"I've seriously considered how life would've turned out if I didn't exist, if all those I cared about were still living. One life for many.  _That_ seems more worth it to me."

She suddenly had his face firmly in both of her hands while she glared at him angrily, the tears now spilling over.

"Don't you  _ever_ think like that again!," she commanded, not releasing her grip, "This world would have been  _much_ worse off without you, Harry Potter! And I guarantee you Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus would've said the exact same thing! Don't let their deaths go in vain!" He gazed at her defiantly and she did not look away, unabashed, but in the next instant he had give in.

"I didn't ask for any of this, Hermione." Harry said in a defeated voice, slumping over again and burying his face in his hands. She rapidly threw her arms around him in a protective embrace, the tears continuing to flow as she spoke in his ear.

"I know you didn't, love! And I know it's hard! It's unfair. But… but none of them would want this turmoil for you. They loved you, like we  _all_ do. Like Ron loves you, like Teddy loves you, like Neville loves you, like your children love you. Like  _I_ love you. Love is difficult but it gives life its meaning."

Hermione continued to hold him and they did not speak for well over a minute, both of their hearts heavy with emotion. He clung to her like a lifeline.

"Don't let go of them, Harry, but don't punish yourself either. You've suffered enough as it is," she advised quietly, stroking the hair at the back of his neck. Harry nodded dejectedly before they descended into silence again.

The quiet lasted another couple of minutes. When she pulled away she did not do so completely, but rather that their faces were only separated by mere inches.

"I don't know if you realize how loved you are," the witch whispered.

Hermione then moved forward and, with the lightest of touches, brushed her lips against Harry's, the action as faint and precious as a baby's breath while sleeping. The kiss was imperceptible but also lovely and true. Hermione had never kissed Harry before, not really. Apart from a rushed peck or two in the past, similar to the kisses mothers give children in a hasty state, the two friends had never crossed this plateau. She put all of her feelings for him into the kiss, as delicate as it was. Hermione strove to convey to him that she meant every single word that had come from her mouth, to make her best friend understand just how important he was to everyone- to her. She needed Harry to be assured of his worth and freed from his burdened sorrow. Hermione put 20 years of unadulterated love into that gentle kiss.

Faint yet powerful… and Harry felt it. Something within him jolted, surprisingly, forcefully. His breath caught in his throat as he felt her lips move deftly against his. He did not know. He did not know what exactly he was feeling or what he  _should_ feel, but he was undoubtedly feeling. And it was dousing.

The kiss did not linger. It was brief but sure and served its purpose. Hermione made to move away from him and something strange buried deep inside of Harry stirred. Reeling, he grabbed her wrist without being fully aware of it. This unexpected move surprised her but Harry was already staring into her eyes with a hard expression, searching them for something he could not consciously articulate. Transfixed, Hermione peered back, held by the intensity of his gaze and beauty of his eyes. (She thought it was literally impossible for anyone to get used to allure of Harry Potter's eyes).

Harry opened his mouth as though he was about to begin speaking, gaze still locked on her face. However, he had closed in in the next moment.  
"Harry," she started in a low voice, noticing his indecision, "What…" This time it was Hermione's turn for breath to get stuck in her throat: he had moved forward, back to her lips. Her heart suddenly began pounding in her chest; she was frozen. Their mouths were now a hair away from each other. Harry hesitated. He did not know what he was going, why he had followed her… merely that he had felt compelled. And he needed for Hermione to have a chance to respond, to act, to say something, to  _stop_  him. To explain what the hell was happening. But she did not. She remained where she was, breathing heavily and heart still hammering.

Harry's rational mind seemed to shut down totally as he closed the tiny gap that separated their lips, driven by this unknown force.

Harry's kiss was just as tender as Hermione's, but where hers was sure, his was shy. Hermione had had a specific reason for her kiss whereas Harry had not, simply following this foreign urge. She stayed in place, eyes now closed as she experienced the sensation of him tentatively exploring her mouth. He put emotion into his kiss just as she had: humility, fondness, gratitude, and a touch of innocence. It was so sweet, so very Harry, that Hermione melted. She felt such a rush of affection for him that she sighed contently and began actively returning his, fingertips gently touching his cheeks.

Harry's heart mimicked the sudden, frantic pace of Hermione's when he felt her active participation. The unidentified force flared within him and he made a noise in the back of his throat. He took both of her wrists in his hands, securely, not forcefully, and pulled her closer.

The timidness of his kissing did not last beyond a minute. The pressure of Harry's mouth became persistent and steady. Consequently, the innocence of his kissing gradually disappeared as well, and while it occurred more slowly, it definitely occurred. Harry felt hungrier after every kiss, more determined to maintain this novel experience with Hermione because it felt like a necessity, like it was being demanded of him. And, well… damn it, it felt  _good_. It was alarming but he felt like he could do not do anything but give in.

Hermione, for her part, did nothing to break this odd yet strong pull. Like Harry, she felt stunned and confused but she did not break away, even as his kisses became more frenzied and persistent. She was lost to this force just as he, even as the platonic nature of the initial kiss dissipated. Hermione did not fully notice the change between them until Harry opened his mouth while it was attached to hers and his tongue traced both of her lips.

Hermione gasped audibly and finally pulled away, disrupting whatever was happening between them and peering at her friend with wide eyes.

He peered back. He was giving her a resolute yet pained look but this one was not questioning or uncertain like the first. It was clear what was in his eyes this time and it had not been present before: desire. Hermione knew because she had seen this look before, knew because she had seen it directed at her from Ron, of course, but by a couple other men as well. She had also caught Harry giving this look to his own wife on more than one occasion while in his company. To her knowledge, though, he had never looked at Hermione in this manner in their 20 years of knowing one another. And now that he was, the witch's mind seemed to jump into action at last, processing what exactly they were doing.

They had been kissing extensively. And if it had begun innocently with pure intentions it certainly had not stayed that way. When Hermione had removed herself from Harry's space moments ago, what the two friends had been doing was nothing short of inappropriate. But it had seemed so involuntary as well! It had seemed so instinctual.

The pair continued to stare at each other. Hermione's wrists were still in Harry's hands and the lustful look was still present in his eyes. She desperately wanted to say something but found she could not; it was though she had lost the ability. In the next instance, he moved. Harry rose from his chair and she peered at him in awe as she rose with him, for he had not released her. When he finally did let her go, his gaze did not stray. Hermione was free now and could move, could move away, look away… say something to initiate a much needed dialogue between them. But the witch did not move. She felt rooted to the spot, mesmerized.

The taut, visceral energy between them broke when Harry moved again. He reached out and grabbed her waist with his left hand while his right hand held the base of her head, and Harry greedily smashed his lips into Hermione's. She let out a choked whimper at the feeling of his tongue sliding itself into her mouth. The chair and ottoman on which they had been seated moved away from them roughly yet quickly. Hermione gave in and wrapped her arms around his neck, vastly encouraged by the silent, strong bout of magic Harry had just displayed. Her own tongue found his and one of her hands clutched the hair at the nape of his neck. He made another noise from within his throat, happy for her eager response, and gripped her waist tighter as he pulled her as close as they could be.

They were kissing feverishly, the force in total control. Harry felt restless and giddy, like there was not enough time to do this with her and he needed to experience everything right in this moment. Nothing was on his mind apart from how intoxicating it felt exploring Hermione in this way, how disturbingly consumed he felt. They were kissing so fervently now that their teeth would sporadically gnash. Harry's heart was beating like he was sprinting. She was fighting for breath and had unsteady hands. Dear God- what  _was_  this?

Both of Harry's hands had fallen to Hermione's hips. He pulled her flush against his own as his lips moved to her neck where he started sucking and biting without hesitation. Her hands completely buried themselves in his hair and she moved her head back to make it easier for him, savoring the sensation of his mouth there. Hermione was breathing shallowly through her mouth with half closed eyes.

" _Hermione_ …" Harry murmured in a husky voice she had never heard before as he continued to defile her neck. It had sounded so overwhelmingly sensual to her that she bit her lip and emitted a soft moan without realizing it.

Hermione's moan, consequently, went right through Harry. He let out a small gasp and ceased his devotion to her neck. Instead, his fingers squeezed her hips to ensure they stayed in place before his purposefully rocked against her. Once. Twice, thrice. A fourth time, as slowly and forcefully as possible.

Hermione uttered a faint cry when she felt that Harry was hard. Her eyes opened only to find that he was gazing at her intensely, his eyes clouded. Harry stopped grinding against her. She then recognized with immense surprise that she was throbbing in between her legs. Hermione bit her lip again at this revelation as she peered at him but this appeared to be the wrong (or right?) thing to do: he grabbed her hand and walked unhurriedly backward to the bed, eyes never leaving her face. She followed dazedly, caught in the trance yet again. Harry walked them to the left side of the bed and made to have her sit first, and she followed without question. Hermione gazed at him dutifully before her eyes fell lower to his pants, where the outline of his erection was undeniable. Her breath hitched and, when she looked back up, Harry was unbuttoning his shirt.

Hermione's ever brilliant mind seemed to have stopped working but her emotions and instincts appeared to be in overdrive. If, for some reason, the presence of Harry's hard dick was not enough of an indicator of the inexplicable road they were hurtling toward, the unbuttoned shirt was. He was still once more when finished, continuing in the extreme staring phenomenon that had trapped them. This was it: Harry was giving Hermione one last opportunity to stop it all- to object, to deny him, to be the one who broke free of the agency that moved them. And once again, for the third time between them, she failed. There seemed to be simply no control.

Maintaining her gaze on him, Hermione grabbed the bed's comforter with both hands and unknowingly opened her legs wider by hardly a noticeable fraction.

It was enough. Harry noticed. Everything broke.

It was a blur. A carnal, desperate blur. Harry was somehow on top of Hermione, lips attacking everything they could reach and emitting aching cries between their work. Her hands flew everywhere as she attuned to the movement of his mouth and hastened to respond, her ragged breathing punctuated by groans. A hand gripped and kneaded Hermione's breast as she involuntarily arched her back. A hand grazed Harry's crotch and he panted heavily. The sound of a zipper being pulled down was almost lost in the noises they were making. Harry grinded against her with clenched teeth, arms on either side of her head holding him up. Hermione did not recall her pants being removed but felt a hand press against her wet core urgently.

There was no foreplay. The exigency of their situation did not afford this intimate luxury nor did they want it. They were half dressed, only disrobed from the waist down. Harry gave Hermione a piercing, final look before his hand hastily pushed his cock into her.

She gasped loudly as a gratified groan escaped his throat. His arms were back on either side of her head, his fists balled. Harry was inside of Hermione, his best friend. His  _married_  best friend. She felt so different, so new… so captivating. Ginny felt genially familiar to Harry: comforting; at this moment, Hermione felt exhilarating. He marveled at the stark pleasure he was receiving from pumping in and out of her, marveled at how damn wet she was and the corresponding noise that was being made from his driving into her slickness.

Hermione was letting out a continuous moan, eyes wrenched shut while occasionally moving her head from one side to the other. Her cheeks were flushed. Harry watched her, bewitched. His right hand moved down to her chest where it slipped underneath her blouse and palmed and squeezed her right breast; when he pinched her nipple, beginning to pant and move faster, Hermione responded. Her eyes shot open as a whine escaped her, and her back arched again as her pelvis pushed against his.

The friction felt immeasurably good to Harry and he so his thrusts increased in speed and exertion. His panting persisted as Hermione squirmed from the extra power in his thrusts and her legs locked themselves together over his back by crossing her ankles. When Harry saw that her eyes were starting to flutter shut again, his hand shot to her face and he held her jaw firmly, taking away her ability to freely move her head. Hermione peered at him questioningly. He stared back, his gaze halfway feral from the pleasure he was experiencing; Harry wanted her to look at him. She complied, captive once again to the spark between them and the obvious desire that was coming from him in waves.

The staring, the raw physical gratification, the sounds- it soon got to be too much for him. Harry's mouth and tongue collided with Hermione's again as both hands clutched at her hair. His panting had given way to groaning and he was moving in between her legs frenetically. Hermione's legs had locked tighter around him and her toes curled, feeling deliciously helpless as his mouth attacked hers and she reciprocated. This felt too fucking good. This could not end. Her cunt was heaven and he would not leave. He needed, he needed… Harry wrenched his lips from Hermione's and shouted out as he came, nestled deep inside of her while his hips jerked forward without conscious control. Her chest heaved and she let out a long, shaky sigh as he hit his peak.

When Harry's orgasm had completed his shoulders slumped down, head lolling while he attempted to even out his breathing. Hermione put her hands over her eyes. It was incredibly quiet as clarity reemerged into the minds of the two friends, their breathing normal once more. Harry hovered over her for another 15 seconds before pushing himself up and to the left of her, leaving a bit of coldness in his place. Hermione had not seen the glance he had given her before moving for her hands continued to cover her face, but she could hear him.

There was more silence and then Hermione felt weight lift from the bed. She heard shuffling as she swallowed a tiny lump that had formed in her throat. The shuffling became more pronounced and she surmised that Harry was fully re-dressing, adorning his pants and rebuttoning his outer shirt. Consequently, the sound of a zipper being pulled up made Hermione's heart stop and breath catch, her fingers pressing down rather hard on her face as she unconsciously cringed. That sound- that zipper- was damning. It was incriminating and it re-established her thought process in a rough way.

They had essentially not spoken to one another since Harry returned Hermione's initial kiss. They had acted on silence and communicated through body language, but the force that had held them was now gone and they had to face what they had done. Jesus, what hadthey done? The witch prepared herself to say something before her lips quivered and she realized she had no clue what to verbalize. How did you start a conversation when your brain was reeling and you felt increasingly queasy?

"I'm… going downstairs." Harry mumbled. The sound of his voice sent a sharp, cold chill through Hermione. She took a bit before nodding in acknowledgement, hands still obscuring her face.

Harry muttered under his breath and the furniture he had silently moved returned to its place. The air around them, that had been stuffy and marked with a scent distinctly related to sex, seemed to clear up as well, and Hermione felt a light pressure pulse at her center briefly. Her legs closed somewhat, surprised at the sensation but also feeling suddenly clean down there.

Harry hesitated to simply leave with that being the only sentence to tumble from his mouth. But he did not know what to say either, for Godric's sake; they had just had  _sex_! Finding himself to be at a proper loss for words, he instead chose to pick up Hermione's pants off the floor and place them next to her on the bed. Harry looked at her uncertainly for a moment before reaching out and gently stroking her left cheek with his fingers. He then moved quickly out of the room as Hermione removed her hands from her eyes, but all she saw was the door clicking shut behind him.

Once outside on the landing, Harry marched mechanically to his master bedroom with plans to use the bathroom. It was a bit drafty inside the room (Ginny had left the window open and forgotten to close it, a known habit of hers) but he did not notice as he stalked into the en-suite and hurled the door closed behind him. The wizard's mind stayed relatively blank as he relieved himself while staring at the wall, a remote buzz echoing in the back of his brain, but it came screeching to a rapid halt when he had finished and moved to wash his hands at the sink. Harry caught his reflection in the mirror as he ran his hands under the warm water and noticed his befuddled countenance before his focus rested on his hair. While unruliness was its natural trait, his hair was down right haphazard at the moment, as though it had been thoroughly and wildly roused. And it had been, by Hermione's hands... in more than a few moments of frenzied desire.

His mind exploded with thought and emotion and he literally swayed on the spot, hands gripping the sink rigidly to keep himself upright. Harry's eyes widened and he began breathing in a jagged manner as everything sunk in. Talking to Hermione had led to a simple kiss from Hermione, had led to a reciprocal kiss from Harry, had led to snogging, had led to touching, had led to… had led to the most heated of acts. Everything he had just done with Hermione in that room… the things he had done, with  _Hermione._  The woman who was his best friend and not his wife. Had he not thought of that? He had not thought at all!

Harry began hyperventilating. His knuckles began turning white from how tightly he was grabbing the sink and his eyes closed. What had he done? What had he done! What was he doing to  _do_? The old feeling of panic had settled comfortably into his brain. It ran rampant for a brief stint as he imagined his entire life crumbling before him as he would be forced to watch helplessly. However, a different part of his brain associated with survival asserted itself not long afterward. It acknowledged the shit he was in but directed him to breathe deeply in order to combat the panic. Harry seized on this rationality, breathing in and out shakily yet steadily, and dimly recognized his learned Auror instincts had taken over. Panic did no good when in a harrowing situation on a mission and it would do no good now. He could not fall to pieces in his bathroom.

With that thought, Harry took a final deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. He let go of the sink and, instead, turned the taps back on to gather water in his cupped hands. He splashed it on his face and then repeated the motion before washing his hands for a second time. Harry turned off the water and yanked a towel from one of the nearby racks, drying his face and hands. He let the cloth obscure his face a little longer than necessary before letting it fall into the sink's basin. He could do this. He could carry on with the rest of the night. He  _had_  to, really, for there was little other choice.

The Weasley siblings were not in the dining room, which was Harry's first destination once back on the main floor of the house. Seeing the abandoned wine glasses on the table, however, made him recognize that alcohol sound very appealing at the moment. He made a promise to return to this thought before traveling to the living room in search of the two red heads. Ron and Ginny sat watching one of the horror movies but neither looked terribly invested in it. They attuned to the sound of someone walking in and jumped up when they saw who it was.

"Harry!" Ginny uttered, rushing to meet him. She pulled him into an embrace and he allowed it, arms going to circle her shoulders.

If she noticed that he tensed a little at their contact she gave no indication. Harry commanded himself to relax, thankful he had had the foresight to magically take care of any evidence that he had just been intimate with someone. Still… could Ginny sense something? Could she feel how warm he was?  _Was_ he warm?

"Are you… feeling better, mate?" Ron asked tentatively. Harry looked to him.

"Yeah. I… think I am," he replied carefully.

"Oh, good! Hermione worked, then!"

The dark haired wizard looked away hurriedly, guilt erupting in his chest.

"Er, yeah. She's... always great." Harry claimed, feeling antsy.

"I'm sorry, Harry. For what I said. I was being daft and not thinking, surprise surprise." Ron offered, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. The other man nodded, suddenly unable to really look at his best friend.

"Thanks, Ron. It's forgotten." Harry attested.

"Where is Hermione?" Ginny questioned. Her husband's gaze shot to her before falling away.

"She, she had to use the loo."

"Well when she comes back down, I say we need to revisit our original plan to drink!" Ron notified.

"I second that. I'll get everything." Harry quickly remarked. He gave Ginny what he hoped was a real smile, which she returned, before leaving for the kitchen.

Harry was aware that the bottle of wine they had already opened was on the table in the dining room but he knew that another would be needed. He also knew that  _he_ needed something harder than wine to curb the activity of his mind and the edge he was on. Harry opened the pantry that contained all of the household's alcohol and pulled out a bottle of gin and another bottle of red wine. He grabbed a glass for the gin and made to pour the liquor but he dropped it before he could set it down on the counter. It merely bounced and thankfully did not break, but Harry cursed regardless as his hand shot out to still it. He stared at it. His thoughts were moving so fast it was difficult to process any one. Conversely, when the sound of Hermione moaning was one cognition to float into his headspace, he moved once more. Harry clenched his teeth and undid the top off the gin bottle, pouring a healthy amount of the liquid into the glass. He wasted no time in lifting it to his lips and consuming it all in two, large swigs a grimace on his face.

When Harry returned to the living room, the bottles of wine and wine glasses floated in front of him and a glass of scotch was perched in his left hand. Hermione was also present and his hold on the glass tightened drastically upon seeing her.

"Cheers!" Ron declared, standing up and grabbing the wine bottles as his sister took the glasses. Hermione looked at Harry with a blank expression and he could only peer at her stoically.

"No wine for you, love?" Ginny prompted, handing a glass to the other woman whom was seated cross legged on the couch.

"Um, no. I needed something stronger." Harry attested rather quietly. He had had another half glass of the gin before switching to the darker liquid and his head had already begun to hum mildly.

"Well, should we continue watching films or switch to something else? Chess, perhaps?" Ron pondered, smiling a bit.

"Films," both women cited. He looked slightly disgruntled as he took his first sip of wine.

"We'll restart the one Ron and I began when you two were upstairs." Ginny suggested. She handed Harry her glass as she went to work the Muggle contraptions. He flushed at the mention of upstairs and made sure he did not glance at Hermione.

"You don't mind?" the brunette wondered. (Harry felt his body constrict at the sound of her voice).

"No," her husband answered, putting an arm around her, "We weren't exactly engaged, if we're being truthful."

"A little too worried about Harry, if he was all right," Ginny stated apologetically, glancing at him, "But it all worked out!" She squeezed Hermione's hand gratefully before sitting on Ron's right and Harry's left, reclaiming her wine. Harry said nothing and stared straight ahead at the television.

Ron's commentary during the movie made Harry feel less nervous and less pressure. He snickered or gave short responses to Ron's dialogue while Hermione squabbled with her spouse to talk less. The scotch also helped to calm Harry's nerves; by the 20 minute mark of the film, his glass was empty. However, funny best friend and buzz aside, he continued to feel awkward. He could look neither of his friends in the face for any amount of time and thanked the stars his gaze was expected to be on the movie. Harry found it a bit easier to look at Ginny but still difficult, as he was hit with guilt every single time. He could not fully concentrate. His mind was dominated by what he and Hermione had done in that room. It was for this reason that Harry attested he was retiring for the night an hour after the movie had begun.

"You sure?" Ron inquired. It was clear that he wanted his friend to stay.

"Yes," Harry noted, kissing Ginny's cheek in hopes of blocking out the memory of having Hermione underneath him, "I'm knackered, mate."

"Of course," nodded Ginny. Hermione was the only one not looking at him and he surely noticed.

"Thank you, though, for coming. Thank you for... sticking with me." Harry uttered in a low voice.

"We always will, Harry." Ron replied.

"Truly. Thank you."

There was very brief silence and Hermione glanced at Harry from the corner of her eye. He met her gaze for that rapid moment and that force, that damned unnamed force, flickered between them again.

"I'll see you up there later." Ginny remarked. Her partner nodded and started to leave the room.

"Good night, Harry." Hermione bid in a placid tone. It was the first thing she had said to him directly since being downstairs and it stopped his exit, although his back was to the couch.

"Good night, Ron… Hermione," he bid, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He then continued his trek out of the room, not fully aware that his fists had balled inside of his pockets.

Harry could not wait to fall asleep and hopefully escape the gravity of what had occurred.


	2. Chapter 2

It was another three weeks before Harry and Hermione spent time together again, which was largely because Harry actively avoided any opportunity for this to happen. It was both surprisingly easy and difficult. As Head Auror, Harry was a busy man. On average, he worked past his scheduled hours two days a week and he was never in his office for more than 30 minutes at a time. As Hermione also worked at the Ministry, and in the same overall department, he saw her very regularly. They normally frequented one another's offices consistently, for professional and personal matters, and ate many of their lunches together when their schedules allowed. Ron would visit his best friends at the Ministry often enough and join them for lunch whenever present. All of this shifted, however, after Halloween.

There were no office visits to be had unless it was pertinent work issues and Harry strived to ensure his assistant handled them if Hermione did stop by. The lunch dates as a trio disappeared because Harry was alway- conveniently- too busy to eat at that time if he knew Hermione would be present. He had evaded Ron as well during the first week due to raging guilt but he could not maintain this for it would have been  _too_ out of the ordinary to ignore both of them.

Consequently, Harry had to put in more effort to stay away from Hermione outside of the workplace. The two couples spent a significant amount of their free time together and they belonged to the same extended family. Molly liked to have Sunday dinner at the Burrow twice a month and Ron and Hermione came to the Potters' a few times a month for meals or vis versa. Harry faked illness for the first Burrow dinner of November and he fabricated the excuse of having extra files to complete when Ron invited them over on a Wednesday. When Ginny told him she wanted to have her brother and sister-in-law over for dinner eight days later, Harry again claimed to have after hours work he needed to finish.

He was dutifully avoiding a certain brunette witch and succeeding, but not in all realms of his life. Hermione refused to leave Harry's mind. He thought about her and their discretion every single day. Harry spent most of the time trying to analyze and understand their actions but there would also be moments where he merely recalled the sensations of that night. He had yet to reach a satisfying conclusion for what had occurred between them and that, with the admission that he had thoroughly enjoyed their folly, was what was rattling him.

Harry's luck ran out on a Wednesday in the middle of November. Ginny informed him that Ron, Hermione, Hugo, and Rose were coming for dinner on Friday night and nothing was going to prevent it. She noted that they had not seen them in nearly three weeks and advised her husband to ensure no additional work was dumped on his shoulders before that.

"You're Head- delegate more!" she observed.

Harry knew he could not get out of it. He was nothing but a bundle of nerves on Thursday and had to pretend that he was notably excited about the dinner when Ron mentioned it during the late afternoon. Harry had not spoken to Hermione since she was last at his home and he had no idea how this was going to play out. However, he knew he could not avoid Hermione forever- he did not even want to, truthfully. She was such a vital part of his being, who he was….

And so, Harry found himself seated stoically at the table on Friday night alongside his two best friends and wife. He had been the one to answer the door and his attention immediately zoned in on Hermione, their eyes locking. The pull of the moment, their hyperfocus on each other, was cursory yet undeniable, but it was interrupted when Rose and Hugo launched themselves at Harry, happy to see their uncle. Ginny came to the foyer shortly thereafter and hugged her brother and Hermione, pleased to see them and their children. As it was now, the four adults were chatting over near empty dessert plates while the children were playing boisterously in the designated toy room, which was also on the first floor (along with Teddy's bedroom and Harry's office). Harry had engaged in normal conversation throughout dinner, eased by the fact that nine people had been at the table, but when the kids ran off once the meal had finished, leaving just the adults, they took much of his comfort with them. There were five less distractions to keep him from gazing too often at Hermione and he thought he was losing the battle. In order to rein himself in, he had spoken less and less to devote more energy to not looking at her.

Hermione, for her part, seemed her typical self. Apart from the quick instance upon her arrival to the Potters' home, she gave no indication anything was out of place or bothering her. It baffled Harry and left him with some degree of envy. Maybe he was the one with the problem, the one who was being over the top about it all….

"I'll take the dishes since you brought everything out, Ginny," Hermione announced, standing up and collecting their plates and silverware, "The tart was excellent."

"Thank you Hermione." Ginny smiled. Harry's eyes shot to the brunette's face.

"You know, you  _can_ just magic them to the kitchen like, say, a witch would." Ron quipped. His sister chuckled.

"You don't need magic for every task there is, Ronald. It makes you lazy," his wife countered, grabbing Harry's dishes last. The man in question stared at her hand.

"It makes me a wizard, is what it makes me," he muttered.

"Muggle habits die hard, I reckon," Ginny offered, "No worries, older brother- Harry's the same way about some things!"

"There  _is_  something to be said about doing certain things the Muggle way," shrugged Harry, ordering himself to not gaze conspicuously at Hermione as she left the room.

Hermione exhaled as she practically chucked the plates and utensils into the kitchen sink, her eyes closing. She needed to take a second to gather herself. It was disconcerting being in Harry's presence again. She was aware that he had been avoiding her for the past three weeks but had not had any objections to it. Like him, Hermione could not believe what they had done on Halloween and was having a hell of a time processing it. She found that when Harry was not around her she could function properly, but hearing about him or seeing him periodically at the Ministry sent her brain into a fog; it was why she had not contested his recent absence from her life. But now? Now she had been in close proximity to him all night and it took everything within her to focus.

_We have to sort this out,_ Hermione thought with a frown. She exhaled once more and put a hand in her hair as she opened her eyes. How long had she been standing there? One minute, two minutes? Three days? Her mind had already started to enter that haze whenever she, now, thought about Harry. She figured she would do the dessert dishes to give her more time to herself and calming down.

Hermione had only turned on the faucet when she felt a presence behind her. She turned around and found Harry. She took a sharp inhale of breath, wide eyed.

"H-Harry," the witch uttered.

"I! I...," he began, gazing into her face. His breathing had spiked upon entering her realm of personal space and he had no idea why he was standing so close to her. Hermione peered back, mouth open.

It had already started: that force between them roared into existence and sucked them in. However, this did not stop shock from hurtling through her body as Harry deftly moved forward and erased the distance that remained between them, eagerly capturing her lips with his. Harry's hands immediately grasped Hermione's back as he choked on a strangled cry. She did not attempt to verbalize anything and simply responded; caught in between the sink and her best friend, she participated in the lip lock with both hands clutching his shirt's front.

They were not making much noise, entirely engrossed with their manic kissing, but having the water pouring from the faucet that Hermione had never turned off was a convenient bonus. If either had not been in a trance, been thinking lucidly- or been thinking at all, in fact- they would have realized this sudden snog in the kitchen where their spouses or children could freely walk in at any moment, was a dangerous ordeal. Of course, it did not occur to them; their focus only concerned finding satisfaction in exploring one another's mouths.

Consequently, it was a spouse that managed to unknowingly interrupt their trance: Ron. He called for Hugo twice, rather loudly, and it managed to grab Hermione's attention. She wrenched herself away from Harry and gaped at him, seemingly mortified, as Ron finished shouted for their son.

" _Harry_!" the witch hissed, eyes darting worriedly to the kitchen's entrance briefly before refocusing on him. She looked highly confused and even a bit frightened, and it pulled at his heartstrings.

Harry could not fully explain what had catapulted him to walk into the kitchen or even why, and he surely had not intended on kissing her so spontaneously. He had been attempting to block her out all night yet here he was, caught in the same cycle he had been on Halloween. Harry opened his mouth to speak but he found himself speechless.

"What, what…" Hermione stumbled, bracing herself against the sink. The water continued to run from the faucet.

"I-I couldn't… I didn't-" Harry stuttered at last, gaze not wavering. He appeared as muddled as she was.

"Everyone is here." She stated this matter of factly. She then reached behind her to stop the water and when she returned her gaze to him there was observable conviction.

"Everyone is here." Hermione repeated firmly.

She moved away from the sink and appeared to be ready to leave the kitchen, which he sensed. Harry felt an odd pang and moved as well, reaching out and catching her left wrist.

"Come by later!" he quickly instructed.

"What?"

"Come back. Later tonight."

She stared at him, the confusion and fear on her countenance once more. He could not bear to see it.

"Please. Come back," Harry implored, "We… we'll talk." Hermione's face softened at this declaration and she nodded shortly thereafter. This caused his heart to leap.

"You'll come?" he pondered.

"Yes. To talk," she replied. It was his turn to nod.

"After midnight."

Harry released her wrist somewhat reluctantly. Hermione peered at him for a long moment before turning and swiftly leaving the kitchen without another word. A heavy sigh forced itself from his throat as he shut his eyes. He had lost control. He had lost control and she had come to her senses and he had panicked when she pulled away. But Harry had gotten her to agree to return to see him, to talk. Yes, they needed to talk- desperately, in fact. This would be good. He opened his eyes and looked at his watch: it was not quite 9:30. He had a couple of hours to talk to himself about staying in line before Hermione came back, an apparently much needed self dialogue. And Harry still had to finish off the dinner and see them out… maybe a quick shot of gin before he left the kitchen.

By 10PM, the Potter children were in bed and the Granger-Weasleys had gone. Harry spent some time with just Ginny but when he noticed that his mind was becoming increasingly occupied with thoughts of Hermione's second visit, he retired to his office with his go-to excuse as of late: needing to do work. Needless to say, Harry got no work related to his Auror title done; he did not really even have any to complete. However, he did pace. And watch the clock. And think. (There was a lot of thinking). It was a good thing they would soon discuss what was happening to them because the conversation was ludicrously overdue, and maybe it would stop anything else from arising between the two.

Harry still felt jittery at a quarter after midnight. At 12:30, he registered that he did not feel sleepy or tired in any sense. At 12:45, he realized that telling Hermione to come after midnight had not been specific enough and left too large of a window of time for her arrival. Harry was convinced she was not coming and the panic from earlier engulfed him as his anxious mind tried to soothe itself. Consequently, time seemed to stop when he heard the distinct pop of Apparation coming through the open doors of his office. He had initially frozen in his chair upon hearing the noise. It could only be a handful of people. He and Ginny had allowed a select few to Apparate directly into their home (foyer only, consequently) when constructing their wards so, unless Neville or George wanted to recount their days in Gryffindor Tower at this hour, Harry had an idea of whom had just entered his house.

He shot out of his chair and hurried to the entrance of his home, his brain suddenly starting to go blank. Hermione stood in place looking uncertain as she peered around the darkness, dressed in the clothes she had worn to dinner. Harry had never seen her look so uncomfortable while in his house. He looked at her lamely before she quickly discovered him standing to her right.

"Oh," uttered Hermione, shifting her feet. It was incredibly quiet.

"I'm… in my study," he revealed after a stint. He turned and walked back to the aforementioned room without waiting for a response, fists balled. He was willing himself to remain composed.

Hermione followed silently and, once inside his office, cautiously shut the double glass doors behind her. She stood facing them unnecessarily as she collected herself in order to face her best friend; when she finally did, it was only to see him standing behind the desk watching her and moving his hands agitatedly.

"Er, thanks for coming." Harry remarked. Hermione sat on the couch that was pushed directly against the wall of the left side of the room. He took this as a sign and rapidly plopped down in his chair.

"I wasn't sure if I would come," she admitted in a hushed voice. He felt his heart drop a little at her admission.

"Oh…."

Harry did not know what to say to start the conversation. He did not want the tense silence to drive him mad but neither person was making much effort to initiate dialogue. He had to jump start this as it had been his suggestion.

"I'm not sure how to start," he truthfully blurted out after uncomfortable silence.

"Neither do I." Hermione attested.

"Really? You? Not know how to start a conversation? I don't know if that's possible."

Harry was only half joking with that comment. It was surprising that he felt secure enough to insert humor considering their stance, and even more shocking that this was the beginning of their first real conversation with one another in almost a month. Hermione gave a weak smile.

"Well I've never been in a situation like this," she noted, "What we did…"

"We've done loads of stuff, most of it bad enough to kill us and we're still here somehow," he quipped, hoping to keep the flippant mood going.

"Yes, but accepting the fact that we were attacked by a giant snake seems like a walk in the park compared to what we did on Halloween."

The mood ended. Harry glanced at her before staring down at the parchment on the desk. Shame was starting to rise within him. Hermione seemed baffled by their tryst... surely he was as well but did he detect disappointment in her tone? Was she disappointed with him? Herself? Was  _he_ disappointed? Shouldn't he be?

"Harry… what happened on Halloween? Or, even after that!  _Why_  did you kiss me earlier tonight, knowing what we had done last month?" she asked.

"I don't know. I'd been hoping you could tell me," he attested, looking at her again with a resigned expression.

"Halloween is its own beast- one in which I was equally involved. But tonight? In your kitchen?"

"I don't know, Hermione, I really don't. It sounds stupid, but I can't give you anything other than I… I was pushed. I felt like I had to, I needed to. And even after doing my best to stay away from you all night."

"You've been 'staying away' from me since Halloween," the brunette observed after a moment.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, "As was seen after dessert tonight, apparently it is not good for me to be near you."

Hermione leaned forward with a light blush and put her head in her hands. When it was obvious she would say nothing, he continued.

"I don't know what happened on Halloween or why it turned into that. I… I was upset- hurting- yes, but you've comforted me before and it's never gone that way. So I don't know what, why…. I can't explain it, Hermione. All I know is I didn't feel like I was in control." The witch's head raised and she found him gazing at her with a scared yet expectant look.

"I felt the same way- like I was being directed and couldn't stop it." Hermione replied. He nodded slowly.

"I also… liked it," Harry revealed, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. She immediately looked away and to her left, not giving him an answer, "Have you thought about this at all?"

"Of course I have! It's hard to think about anything else, frankly!" she exclaimed, getting suddenly to her feet. He moved back in his seat, taken aback by her action. She began pacing, a sure sign that her mind was working furiously and a subsequent tirade would follow.

"What we did does not make sense. You're right: I've comforted you before. I've been affectionate before- it's a part of who I am. There was nothing particularly novel about the situation so that's why it's difficult to understand why it became so…  _heated_ between us. Then I began thinking about the nature of our relationship-"

"What do you mean?" he interrupted. She stopped pacing and looked at him somewhat sorrowfully.

"Harry, we are close. Closer than what's expected of two friends. Our friendship- I'd say it's deeper than most, but that's only natural considering what and how much we've experienced together. All these years… I think we've surpassed the usual plane of friendship. Saying you're just my friend, even best friend, doesn't seem to adequately capture our relationship." Hermione explained.

His heart went into spirals at her words as he watched her because the truth in them was so potent.

"Is it the same with Ron?" Harry questioned. Her shoulders tensed with the mention of her husband.

"No," she steely uttered, "It's different. Ron… we've had our fair share of moments- important moments- that didn't include him, Harry. And that has affected the bond that you and I have. There are experiences that only  _we_ share, that no one else we know went through."

  
There was silence and all that could be heard was the ticking of the clock. The depth of Hermione's words… it sounded as though she had given the subject an inordinate amount of thought, but was that really all that shocking?

"So, our bond- that's what you think was the cause?" he carefully inquired, staring at her while his heart pounded for some reason.

"Yes. No!," Hermione declared. She started moving about the room again, "It can't  _just_ be how close we are because we've known each other for 20 years, and nothing like this has ever happened before."

"No," he solemnly agreed.

"I've been dissecting this for weeks. Religiously. And while the nature of our friendship plays a role, I cannot fully explain or even comprehend what happened."

"Yeah. It's been exactly the same for me."

She let out an extended sigh after a lull in the conversation.

"I am certain of other facts, however," Hermione relayed, still once more. She gazed at him seriously, "What we did was  _wrong_."

Harry looked away. A dolorous wave of acknowledgement washed over him and the familiar guilt reemerged. He remained quiet, not trusting his voice. He had tried to think the least about this aspect of their folly because it was the most painful to feel.

"Whether we got caught in the moment or felt like we were under a proverbial spell we couldn't break doesn't matter- we shouldn't have done it. We shouldn't have let it keep going. We're adults; we  _did_ have free will. There's no valid reason why we let it go that far, why we-"

"Had sex?" Harry interjected. His tone was harsh but wavered at the same time. (The duality of his emotions since Halloween was astounding).

She appeared shocked, mouth agape, but not five seconds later she hung her head, letting her plentiful hair obscure the fact that she had turned as red as an apple. Her left hand grabbed her right forearm.

"We can never do that again." Hermione observed. He returned to silence. Of course she was right. Logically, she was right; he knew this.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It, it was my fault- what happened." Harry remarked dolefully. He felt responsible for her distress and needed to lessen her load if possible. She peered at him now, brow furrowed.

"I was the one to… to escalate the kiss. Yours was good natured and mine- it- y-you were pulling away and I kept going," he added.

"It wasn't just you, Harry. I could have stopped you, or stopped myself, but I didn't. I was involved just as much as you were," the witch assured, shaking her head. He glanced at her before uttering:

"Right."

Neither said anything for an extended period of time. Hermione remained standing, a small frown sitting on her face while Harry stared stubbornly at the parchment.

"I said I was certain of other things," she stated, reigniting the flow of conversation, "While I'm sure what took place was erroneous, I am also sure that I don't want it to fundamentally change  _us_."

"You don't?" came the trepid reply.

"Of course not. Why would I want it to? I don't want awkwardness or bad feelings, I don't want us to avoid each other or not speak. You are my oldest friend! We can't take back the mistake and it inevitably  _did_ change some things between us, but I don't want it to come between us. I don't want to lose our connection over this."

"I don't either- not at all," Harry admitted rapidly, gazing at her in an imploring way, "I'm sorry I cornered you in the kitchen; it probably made this all the more complicated. But I want us to remain connected as well. It's never felt right when things are strained between us."

"No, no it hasn't." Hermione confirmed. She then gave a watery half smile and a chuckle, eyes alight with numerous emotions. The hairs on his arms raised. Did she feel better? Were they miraculously going to move past this?

"So, we realize we're confused by what happened but acknowledge the large mistake that was made in doing it, and we keep its impact on our friendship as minimal as possible?" he wondered. At some point he had risen from the chair.

"Yes, I agree. It's another moment that is just ours, even in our terrible choice to do so. We put it with our other moments but we leave it there. It's not our proudest," she responded. Harry nodded, appearing reflective.

"You know that things  _have_ changed between us, right, Harry? I'm not sure in what way and I doubt we'll get all of that easiness back, but I'm also serious about keeping who we together, fundamentally, intact."

"I know. But if I don't have to lose your place in my life, and I don't have to play stealth ninja at the Ministry to avoid you, then I'll handle whatever change comes." Harry remarked. Hermione let out a genuine laugh and it was his turn to give a shaky but authentic smile.

"I don't know how stealthy you actually were. I knew exactly what you were doing," she noted.

"I'm getting older- give me a break," he requested playfully.

She smiled but it soon fell away and she looked dubious instead. The wizard's own provisional good spirits faltered a bit as he noticed the change within her demeanor, but in the next instant she had tutted and rushed toward him. Harry was stunned when he recognized that Hermione was hugging him yet he was only immobile for so long before returning it.

"I give you credit for skiving out on all the family dinners, though. That was rather impressive." Hermione relayed, face pressed against his sternum.

"Thank you. I will make note of that, as a compliment from Hermione Granger-Weasley is always worth gold! I hear she's not easily impressed."

"That's hearsay."

When Harry gave a short laugh she pulled away to look up at him but remained attached.

"I'm very glad we could talk about this, Harry, as hard as the topic was." Hermione mentioned.

"As am I. Maybe the weeks of separation helped in a sense; we were able to think," he answered. It was quiet as they peered at each other, smiles on both of their faces.

"When did I have to start looking up at you?" she quipped.

"About 15 years ago. It was around the time you gave me a lecture about puberty."

"Excuse me? It was  _not_ a lecture! I was merely informing you why you were attractive to girls because you were too daft to figure it out yourself!"

"I believe you said something like fanciable." Harry attested, smirking. Hermione snorted before laughing, which caused him to grin. He instinctively pulled her closer at the sound of her laughter.

"Yes, fanciable," she noted, looking at him mirthfully.

"You should get that word coined. Put it in the Oxford Dictionary," he suggested, gazing back at her just as blithely.

"It'd be the most momentous thing I've ever done!"

"Apart from befriending a pretty decent bloke with glasses and a dodgy scar."

"Don't flatter yourself." Hermione advised. Harry shrugged and grinned.

The two had not let go of one another and it seemed to be on an unconscious level. Silence dawned again as they continued to look at the other without breaking eye contact. The obvious cheerfulness of their countenances began to slowly slip away.

"Do… do you still think I'm fanciable, Hermione?" he asked. His voice was quieter and his gaze was becoming more intense. The brunette noticed, vaguely acknowledging she was having trouble looking anywhere but him.

"Y-Yes," she remarked, focusing on green once more. Her hands were splayed on his back and his hands had dropped to her waist at some point.

"Yeah?"

"Yes…"

Hermione saw him lick his lips.

"Why?" Harry posited. His eyes were searching her face as he proposed the question. She felt the new, familiar sensation of speechlessness return and the room's air seemed harder to get into her lungs. Something was blanketing over her brain. She glanced rapidly at his lips.

A spark had caught somehow.

"Why?" he prompted urgently when there was no reply. Harry's fingers squeezed her waist and she gasped. His feet had walked the witch to the edge of the desk without direct awareness, her ass pressed right against it. The pair was now staring at one another, him appearing bated and her looking helpless.

"B-Because I know you! I know who you are." Hermione rushed to say, praying her voice was not overtly trembling.

"You know who I am…" he repeated slowly.

Harry was searching her face once more, yet this time it was more languid and with more hunger. His left hand lifted from her waist and indolently went to her mouth, which was partially open. She registered his movements but did not stop staring at him to track them; when she felt him gingerly touch her bottom lip with his fingertips, she struggled not to swoon.

"You know who I am," mumbled Harry, watching his hand caress her lip. Hermione watched him in fascination, "Your lips are perfect." The brunette inhaled sharply.

"I-I, I…" she stuttered.

Her voice was shaking and she felt a bit dizzy. The magnitude of feelings she was suddenly experiencing was precisely like Halloween, as was that pulsating, commanding force between them. The only difference this time was the presence of words.

"Maybe they make  _you_ fanciable," he stated in a near whisper. His left hand had grazed to her neck and his head was moving past hers.

Hermione could not form a response because she felt like she could not breathe. Her eyes were shut and she was biting her lip now that he had released it.

"I was selfish last time. I didn't even bother to see if you had been satisfied. I'm sorry." Harry breathed into her left ear.

" _Harry_ ," she sighed, clutching at him. The sensation of his breath on that part of her anatomy and the knowledge of what he was referring to had caused her voice to sound like something related to a groan.

His right arm then wrapped tightly around her waist and his grip on her neck became firm. Hermione let out a surprised noise.

"I'd make it up to you  _just_ to hear you say my name like that again," he rasped. He was facing her again and the lustful stare that had dominated his features on Halloween was emanating from him once more.

She was dumbfounded. Harry's remark, after the agreement they had reached from the talk they had literally just had…. She was dumbfounded and paralyzed. Hermione intended to say no by shaking her head- they couldn't. Not after the damage they had already incited, not after their cautious resolution; things would become more irreversible than they already were. And despite all of this, despite the necessity for prudence and the promise of unstable recovery, Hermione's intention lost. The witch nodded her head with her eyes hooked on his and Harry pounced, grabbing her fully in both arms and fusing their mouths without delay.

They eventually found themselves on the sofa with Harry perched over Hermione. The desperate sounds they emitted hung in the air around them and suggested the two had been deprived of sustenance for weeks. At the height of it, the room's light had been extinguished and their naked bodies moved together in the dark. Her hands were lost in his hair, her back was lifted from the cushions, and her breath was labored. Her breast was enveloped in Harry's mouth while two of his fingers stroked and pushed the inside of her walls; his thumb worked her clit and his free arm was braced against the right arm of the sofa.

Hermione's brain felt like complete mush. The distinct pleasure coursing through her body from his ministrations was staggering; the fact that their bare skin had made contact for the first time made it all the more electrifying. Hermione was nearing her climax- she could feel, and rabidly welcomed, it. Consequently, Harry suddenly stopped: his mouth abandoned her breast and his hand left her center. She shouted out in protest, peering at him frantically as he lifted himself above her. He could not stop now! Harry then kissed her fiercely, cutting her off before she could even begin.

"I promised to make it up to you; I'm not finished," he declared in a haggard voice. Hermione licked her lips, one hand running down his chest.

"O-Okay," she replied.

Without letting another second pass, Harry thrust into her, catching her off guard. His thumb returned to its original spot and his cock picked up where his fingers had left off, allowing himself to become consumed with her. Not very long afterward, when Hermione's body was convulsing from her completed ecstasy, Harry knew he had kept his promise.

* * *

He awoke unexpectedly with a start an unknown amount of time later. His face lifted from the sofa cushion as sleep delirium started to dissipate and his mind cleared. The room was still relatively dark… he was in his study. What time was it? Where were his glasses? As Harry sat up, the biggest realization dawned on him: he was alone. He had been covered by a blanket and was naked underneath it. He Summoned his wand in a croaky voice; when it came to him, he cast  _Lumos_ and also Summoned his glasses. Harry shone the light at the room's clock and saw that it was 4:53 in the morning. He exhaled, putting his wand beside him and leaning forward, hands cradling his head. Hermione had left at some point unbeknownst to him while he slumbered and managed to not wake him.

Harry did not even remember falling asleep but he now recalled their impassioned coupling, and he closed his eyes. They had done it, for a second time, and  _right_ after discussing how the first instance had been a glaring mistake.  _Don't pull her into this mess. It was your doing, just like the snog in the kitchen,_ a voice corrected,  _you are the problem in all of this._ It was true that he had maintaining his role as the initiator, but Hermione had not truly halted or reprimanded him at any point thus far. She was willingly engaging in this indulgence (and perhaps even enjoyed it) if her body's reactions were any indication.

Harry was alarmed by the amount of confusion he had steadily experienced since Halloween. What was wrong with him? The two had come to an understanding, a promising way to move beyond their blunder and he had instantly pulled them back in upon looking into Hermione's eyes. Three times now he had crossed a physical boundary with his best friend, and in less than a month.  _And this time with your children in the house, no less_ , the voice pointed out. Harry clenched his teeth as she quickly stood, forcefully ending that train of thought. He would not go there. Not now. He simply had to figure out what the fuck was going on. He was determined to, and with the explanations Hermione had offered earlier about the nature of what was occurring between them, it would likely be easier. He knew that their physical intimacy could not become habit and he also knew that he had told her the truth: he did not want to jeopardize their connection over this.

The convenient thing was that it was Saturday so Harry would be afforded the opportunity to keep away from his workplace, and thereby Hermione, for the next two days; during this time, he could devote more time to think about this murky situation. He found and threw on his boxers before grabbing the rest of his clothes and his wand, then made his way out of the office in favor for his bedroom upstairs. He focused on the appeal of a few more hours of sleep in a bed and hoped that his wife had not missed his presence at any point during the night.

When Monday arrived and Harry knew he would see Hermione, he resolved to not evade her and simply endure whatever interactions they would have, good or bad. As it turned out, she did not actively avoid him either despite the nerves and tinge of fear they both had. Any exchange the two had that day was marked with definite shyness but it was leaps and bounds over what had transpired after the first time they had had sex. They did not discuss their second indiscretion whatsoever, and after a number of days their dynamic started to become cautiously normal once more (or as normal as it could considering the magnitude of what they had done). Harry stopped eluding meals that included Hermione although he did not go out of his way to plan them either, and he was no longer deserting his office whenever he could. It was during a lunch that Ron had come to the Ministry to be with his wife and best friend that the subject of the Auror holiday party came up. It was a semi-formal event unlike the truly formal event that was the tri-annual Ministry holiday ball, and it took place every year. The trio and Ginny had not attended the previous year because Rose had been notably ill and Harry had been away on a mission, much to the chagrin of his immediate family. While Ron was no longer an Auror, he would always be sent an invitation for the soiree for the mere fact that he had once been an important part of the ranks. (This was true for any witch or wizard). The party for this year was taking place on the second Saturday of December, and as the three friends observed there were no obstacles preventing them from going, they came to the understanding that they would be in attendance.

Roughly two weeks later, with child care easily in place, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron were a part of a sizeable crowd in a nicely decorated, spacious ballroom, listening to the live quartet and eating hors devours. As Head, Harry had to schmooze and make his presence known much more than would ever be comfortable for his personality, but there was essentially nothing he could do to change it so he grinned and bore the onslaught of smiles, handshakes, fake laughs, and adoring gazes. Neville and Hannah were also present and his old friends were thrilled to spend time with him and catch up. The party was fairly enjoyable, especially once Harry no longer had to hold court and could be with his inner circle exclusively, but there was a nagging problem that he could not escape: Hermione.

The problem was that Harry could not stop looking at her and had to actively redirect himself from openly staring. The problem was she looked particularly lovely due to the party's dress requirements. The problem was his incessant staring had not gone away at all since Halloween and he believed it was, in fact, getting worse. The problem was he had not made any headway since their second tryst about what the hell was going on in his depraved mind when it came to her. And so he resigned himself to staring, whenever he knew it would go unnoticed.

Harry no longer went into panic mode whenever dancing was mentioned and he was not the bad dancer he had once been in his younger years. However, the man still did not enjoy it and prefered to watch others rather than participate himself, but dancing was inevitable this night. He danced comfortably with his wife for a few songs and engaged in one song pleasantries with select other women, typically the partners of other high ranking department officials or female officials themselves. (Harry made sure to dance stubbornly near Ginny while waltzing with a Mrs. Duvarney and Ginny watched the woman with a cautionary scowl; Mrs. Duvarney had been conspicuously smiley and discreetly touchy with Harry during a previous holiday gathering).

After a lighthearted, upbeat dance with Hannah, he returned to the table with her only to discover the other occupants were all missing. Neville was on the floor with Ginny, Ron was laughing with old Auror colleagues, and Hermione- Hermione- he could not see. His stomach dropped at this observation; seconds later, Hannah was excusing herself to the bathroom, leaving Harry alone. He took a seat and glanced at his water glass, vaguely wondering where the brunette had gone. Consequently, he was not by himself for terribly long. Hermione came drifting back to the table rather dreamily and did not appear to be completely aware of his presence. Harry, on the other hand, snapped to upon seeing her and felt his chest constrict.

"Hey," he uttered, relishing the fact that he had a legitimate reason to gaze at her. She peered at him rather bemusedly, as though fully registering he was there.

"Oh! Hello," she replied. He said nothing but maintained his gaze. The witch looked at him as well for a bit before clearing her throat and turning her head to the dance floor.

"Had your fill out there, then?" Hermione asked. Harry dropped his gaze too with a flair of disappointment and looked to the dancing guests. He exhaled quietly and then shrugged. He did not know if she saw the gesture but he hoped she did.

There was silence and then she spoke once more.

"Will you… dance with me?"

Harry looked at her sharply. Hermione had extended her right hand as an invitation and seemed nervous (if her subtle lip biting was any indication). Still he said nothing, but that did not stop him from standing up and grasping her outreached hand in his. He did a quick once over of Hermione's countenance before leading her out toward where most of the party's guests were scattered. Harry chose a spot on the fray of the crowd that was not too isolative and not too immersive. Hermione scanned the area for Ron as they suited their bodies and hands for dancing and, when she returned her attention back to Harry, he was already staring at her. She had to quell the urge to blush as they began moving.

They did not say a single word to each other during the entirety of the song and their eyes never once left the other's face. He held her close and she gripped him. For those few minutes the two truly forgot the rest of the people in the room- they may as well have been the only ones present. While anyone who glanced at them would not have observed anything other than two well acquainted people dancing with each other, Hermione surely felt exposed. She felt warm-  _hot_ \- in the places Harry touched and held. Consequently, he distantly reflected on the fact that he now knew what it felt like to have her wet tongue inside his mouth, what her breasts felt like in his eager hands, what it felt like to be enveloped in her most private, sacred of areas. It was enticing for both of them. However, the two slowly parted when the song ended, with Harry wearing a small frown. He wanted to keep dancing, with her, but… perhaps it was all for the better anyway, because Ron was walking toward them looking pleased.

The pair did not dance together again that night and tried to ignore the persistent desire to touch once more as they sat at the table conversing as a sextuplet. Ginny and Harry left the party first at 10:30 but Ron and Hermione stayed with the Longbottoms until its end at 11PM. Hermione was rather quiet after her in-laws' departure and welcomed the time that would mark the soiree's end. She and Ron gave their old schoolmates warm goodbyes before Apparating to their home; their children were at the Grangers' for the night so the couple planned to fetch them in the morning.

Hermione tried to block out thoughts of dancing with Harry as she and her husband took their time in preparing for sleep. She tried to pretend that her body did not continue to feel warm in the spots Harry had touched as she engaged in playful small talk with Ron. Neither tactic worked, however, so she repeatedly assured herself she was not a bad person for what she was about to do as she settled into her bed not long after midnight. Hermione asked Ron to make love to her and he readily obliged, oblivious to the fact that his wife was wearily grateful for the undeniable mental distraction that it would provide.


	3. Chapter 3

Things seemed to be heading back in the direction of normal for Harry and Hermione at work, or what their new normal now was. They had stopped avoiding each other a handful of weeks prior but their shy interactions with one another started to fade a bit as well, following the Auror holiday party. Sure, sometimes they looked at the other a little too long or could feel heat rising in their cheeks in the other's presence, but that was nothing, really. They had not spoken about themselves together since that second night in Harry's office either, but that was not much of an issue. They had not done anything with each other for a couple of weeks now and that was very good!... very good. Harry saw this as a sign that he was no longer a slave to that bizarre force between them, that he had control and was not going to live in a constant state of conflict anymore. Which was why, five days after the Auror function on a Thursday, the wizard was nothing short of perplexed when was he urgently kissing Hermione in a darkened, uninhabited hallway at the Ministry. And once again, Harry had been the one to initiate it.

The pair had been coming from the lower depths of the Ministry, having just followed up about an issue for a case on which they were loosely associated. Hermione had said something humorous and Harry laughed, glancing at the warm expression on her face; right afterward, she asked what his lunch plans were while faintly touching his right forearm. This was significant because the two had not purposely planned a lunch date just for themselves since before Halloween, but Harry was not contemplating lunch at that moment. He had gotten stuck when he looked at her in the midst of her joke and the touch on his arm was only making it more pronounced. The shift in gears of his mind and body was rapid. He had heard Hermione's inquiry but did not answer. Instead, Harry stopped in his tracks, peered at her achingly, grabbed her hand, and then began power walking while he pulled her along.

The witch was rightfully confused and called his name once to elicit an explanation but he gave none. He merely guided them on their original, intended path before taking a sharp left and then another left, to a noticeably less active section of the building. Hermione started to question why he had taken them to a scarce corridor when Harry ceased walking, but it was quickly lost when he boldly covered her mouth with his, hands placed along her jawline.

She did not even process that it was happening yet  _again_ \- that they were being physically intimate for a fourth time. No, Hermione's body reacted to the memory of dancing with Harry the previous weekend and feeling electrified in the places he had held. Hermione almost instantly responded: she threw her arms around his neck and used the leverage to yank him closer, sighing deeply. They made out wildly. It was very akin to when the two had been standing in the middle of Harry's upstairs guest room on Halloween. There was such florid movement that his glasses were nearly knocked from his face; the file case she had been carrying had been tossed to the side. And unlike the last time Harry had blindly kissed her without warning, Hermione did not pull away. She seemed just as frantic as he was and gave no reprimands.

They kissed for what simultaneously seemed like the blink of an eye and an eternity. What broke them apart was the clear sound of footsteps coming from the general vicinity of their own location. It would take someone more effort to reach their particular spot but the proximity of the other employees passing was close enough to serve as a serious warning. Harry righted his glasses and swiftly raked both hands through his hair, eyes darting to the entryway of their space, while Hermione wiped at her bottom lip before smoothing out her robes with shaky hands. Both were breathless. She bent down to retrieve her case and when she was upright once more he had turned back to face her. They stared at each other. Gulping, Harry moved forward and pressed his forehead against hers, at which she closed her eyes.

"I think I needed that," he declared hoarsely, "I didn't realize… and I had to…" The witch felt light headed at his confession, even with the incomplete rambling. He kissed the top of her head and then, somewhat abruptly, left the corridor in a hurry. (Did this mean no lunch date?)

If Hermione was being truthful, she was a bit relieved at Harry's departure. She leaned back against the wall and exhaled heavily, closing her eyes again. The weeks long period of no physical mistakes between them had just been broken- at  _work_. Yes, he had guided them to an obscure hallway of a less occupied part of the building, but the chance of them being discovered was still too high to ever be comfortable. Their unexpected snog had been outrageously dangerous. Imagine if she had been caught kissing a man who was not her partner and was, in fact, her best friend, and who  _also_ happened to be Harry Fucking Potter, savior of the wizarding world. The stupidity of the move had been so profound that it supported Hermione's slowly growing idea that she was going insane- insane because she could not get a grip on this  _thing_ that had emerged with Harry, either mentally or physically. The brunette had not felt like she did not comprehend something in an extremely long time and it was wholly unsettling.

They did not reference or talking about kissing at the Ministry. (This appeared to, now, be an unspoken rule for them). Consequently, his sinful trysts with Hermione were pushed to the back of Harry's mind the following week as his life took a temporary, eventful turn: Teddy returned from Hogwarts for the winter break. Christmas was lurking around the corner as well so there was much to be done and multiple ways to remain busy. The Potters accompanied Andromeda to King's Cross and, when the young Lupin boy was secured, they all returned to Ginny's and Harry's for dinner, as was tradition since Teddy had begun attending Hogwarts. He went home with his grandmother when the meal was finished but he was to return to the Potters' in three days time in order to spend a of couple nights. Harry loved his godson and was always eager to have him spend time with his adoptive family. The feeling was mutual as Teddy adored his "God-Dad" and surrogate siblings, and was happy whenever he was in their presence.

The arrival of Teddy and Christmas festivities truly changed things for Harry. The magnetic force that had made itself known nearly two months ago seemed to be curiously inactive. He felt like he had before Halloween: he felt content, he felt like the family man he had become in his mid-20s, and he felt tranquil. As it was the winter holidays, he saw Hermione regularly at the numerous family functions that were held and there was no tension. No confusion, no guilt, no demanding pull… not really. And she must have felt it too because when Harry looked into her face he saw none of the emotions they both had previously felt. There was just contentment similar to his. On Christmas Eve, Ron made a particularly dramatic- particularly  _Ron-ish_ \- announcement at the Burrow that he and Hermione had decided to host a New Year's Eve party at their home and everyone was expected to show up. The prospect of a Weasley hosted party was appealing and more than just family was invited. Ron told all of their friends and many professional acquaintances about the event so a very healthy amount of people was believed to come.

Hermione's and Ron's house was just as nice as Harry's but even larger, which was saying something considering that Harry's home had seven bedrooms. However, this made the house perfect for holding larger events. Ron, used to a spacious home and spurred by a childhood with little money, had been zealous in procuring an expansive house.

The party was scheduled from 9PM to 2AM. Molly, aware of her preferences and limitations, was attending with Arthur but stated that she would leave by 11:30PM and offered to watch the attendees' children, if the children needed a break from the party or if the adults needed a break from the children. Ginny and Harry volunteered to come over hours early to help with set up but were told it was unnecessary, so they arrived a bit after 9PM with their children and Teddy in tow. The kids ran off straight away in order to find their young counterparts, family or otherwise.

"Harry! Looking good!," Ron greeted with a wide grin as their coats were magically taken, "Though, I do wonder if you own anything that's  _not_ black…. And sis- you're showing me up as a spouse by matching Harry's attire! Was that really necessary?"

Harry and his wife did not match exactly but they were similar enough. He wore a sharp, pressed black suit with a dark gray shirt underneath while she was adorned in a flowy yet form fitting, long silver dress. Both looked exceptionally good.

"You take any chance you can to stand out so shut it." Ginny quipped, rolling her eyes at her brother.

"You look half decent yourself." Harry added with a smile. It was true. Ron wore a suit of deep blue with a white shirt and had a slim tie to match; Harry, on the other hand, did not have a tie and had instead opted to leave the first two buttons of his shirt undone.

" _I_ suggested he wear that," Hermione revealed, "He was ready to just strut around naked."

"It would've been a treat for everyone." Ron smirked. His best friend laughed.

"Well you've surely got an eye, then. And it's no wonder because you look beautiful yourself." Ginny complimented, kissing her sister-in-law's cheek before moving further inside.

"Thank you," the brunette replied.

Harry had to agree: Hermione looked beautiful. She wore a black dress with sophisticated sequins that caught light in a lovely way and also had an A line, flared bottom that stopped above her knees. Simple yet captivating, which may have also described the witch wearing it. Harry realized he had been staring a bit when she turned to him in greeting and he started somewhat.

"You, er, you really do," he confirmed as they gave each other a quick hug.

"Thanks, handsome," she noted with a small smile.

The descent began with the observation of how entrancing Hermione looked and it progressed frighteningly quickly after that. The addition of alcohol (and a good amount of it, considering what was being celebrated) only aided in how fast Harry reverted. He had arrived to his best friends' house at peace and certain that things had returned to being totally normal for his life, but only a few hours later and the force that he had believed to be dormant had slammed into him so hard it felt like he had been physically pushed over. Harry felt crudely drawn to Hermione once more. To quell this, he plunged wholeheartedly into conversations and interactions with other people: the children, the Weasleys, old Hogwarts friends and peers, wizards from the Ministry whom he enjoyed. He was often by Ron's or Ginny's side, though, so this also meant that Hermione tended to be included as well.

Harry's other solution to keep the pull toward Hermione at bay was to drink, of course. It was New Year's Eve, after all.

Molly left at 11:30PM as promised and took a handful of young ones with her, including Lily and Hugo. Arthur would leave the party later with any remaining kids wishing to spend the next day at the Burrow with their peers. At about a quarter to midnight and the big countdown, Harry wandered into the kitchen for some reason that slipped his mind once he saw that Hermione was also in the room. The two had not been alone all night, or since Teddy's return home, actually. He saw that she was tidying up and smirked. Harry made himself known by immediately teasing her about it and she participated in the banter, ordering him to leave her alone.

"I've been trying, but that's… that's been rather hard to do. Especially with how you look tonight," he muttered, appearing quite serious all of a sudden. The smile that had highlighted Hermione's lips slowly slipped off.

"What?" she pondered.

"You. You look,  _so_  good."

The witch gawked at him and he did not look away. The static in the air seemed to start to change but Hermione dropped her gaze and her cheeks began to redden. A frown began to take over her mouth but Harry did not notice for his eyes had begun to rove over her form wistfully. Enough silence passed for him to start thinking of inappropriate things he would like to do to her physically- right here in the kitchen- and this appeared to break him out of his reverie.

"Well I'll leave you to your cleaning." Harry mumbled quickly. Hermione peered up at him with drawn brows as he left the room in haste, as though he had not just stoked something between them with his words.

Hermione's mood changed after the short, odd interaction with Harry in the kitchen. The party's attendees were corralled outside to the sprawling backyard a few minutes before 12AM, where champagne was given to the adults and sparklers to the remaining children. An impressive fireworks show commenced as soon as everyone had shouted out "one" and the new year officially began. Hermione found that she could not match everyone's excitement and loudness but attempted to hide how out of sorts she felt as people celebrated around her. She burrowed her face into her husband's chest and held him tightly as everyone celebrated the birth of another year. The merriment moved back into the house 15 minutes after midnight as the cold got the better of everyone. By 12:45AM, the majority of the children had become victim to sleepiness. Hermione jumped at the chance to put Rose to bed to escape the liveliness and chatter (and Harry) for a stint, but the girl wanted to go to the Burrow; as a compromise, she accompanied Arthur and a gaggle of young ones back to the Weasley home.

Hermione returned alone around 1:20AM. Her dour mood persisted. She was annoyed that her demeanor had been so altered by speaking to Harry over half an hour ago and that it did not seem to be going away. One sentence from him- that is all it had taken. Granted, it had been about unexpected and about her supposed, alluring appearance… but they were just words! She had done much worse with Harry and recovered faster. Hermione had not spoken much since the kitchen and stayed out of close proximity to a particular Head Auror, but she definitely watched him surreptitiously from then on. Interestingly enough, he seemed to not take notice of her and made no real effort to engage her.

It was past 1:30AM when Hermione stood lingering near Ron, Seamus, and Dean, all of whom were loud, jovial, and drunk, joking around with each other like they were back in school again. She watched them pensively with a glass of wine in her hand, although she was not truly paying attention to the three as she was sifting through thoughts. Ginny was conversing happily with old Quidditch teammates and Harry, Harry was-

Hermione inhaled acutely and her eyes widened as she felt a hand stroke the back of her neck. It was followed by whispered breath in her left ear.

"Downstairs storage room in ten minutes."

The brunette had no time to turn around and look at the person before the hand was removed and her ear felt cold again. Harry walked right by her on the left but did not spare her a glance as he kept moving. He was smiling as he headed over to Ron and his old roommates and they hailed him with exuberant shouts and tousling. For a moment, Hermione thought she may have imagined the touch and whisper as she gazed at the former Gryffindors' playful interactions. Maybe a little too much wine? But when a certain dark haired wizard caught and held her eye while the other three men were consumed with laughter, she knew the wine had nothing to do with it.

Hermione felt herself stiffen and she quickly turned and walked off, away from the quartet. She went to the small library on the first floor, her favorite place at home for refuge when she needed time to sort out thoughts, calm herself, or both. Harry wanted her to meet him… that seemed ominously familiar. The last time she had granted a meeting he requested, she had ended up naked on a sofa, trying her best to control the moans that issued from her mouth. Hermione blushed at the memory. They had steered clear of this- of each other in  _that_  way- all night, so would it even make sense to possibly ruin that now? In fact, it had been longer than just the New Year's Eve party- the two had avoided going down this road again for a month! Harry had been in full godfather mode, submersed in the role of tending to his family.

It was rather for this reason that Hermione stood outside the door to her storage room 10 minutes after fretting in her library. (The storage room and library were both on the first floor, with the former being in the very back and having a twin storage room upstairs). She wanted to speak to her friend, just him, and see that the change he had undergone was not going to abate. Harry stood leaning against a covered wardrobe, staring at the floor, when she walked inside. He jumped to an upright position and removed his hands from his pockets while Hermione shut the door, yet she remained right in front of it. There was short lived silence.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," he admitted, looking her over and recognizing she had abandoned her heels somewhere.  _That also sounds familiar_ , the witch thought, realizing she had stated this that night in his office.

"Why?" she questioned, aware that butterflies had erupted in her stomach at the sound of his voice.

"I scared you in the kitchen." Harry responded, moving forward as his eyes raked over her body again.

"What makes you think that?"

"You've been acting differently since then."

He stood directly in front of her, peering down as his gaze continued to soak her in.

"How do you know?" Hermione breathed out. She stared at him in trepidation and anticipation.

"Because," he muttered, pressing her against the door, "I've been watching you. I  _told_ you you look good- how could I not?"

He was then kissing her selfishly and without restraint. She did not stop him.

Hermione should have known no real talking would have gotten done between them, not with the obvious intention that had been written all over Harry's demeanor and not with their recent track record. As it were, it did not take long for Hermione to understand she had been fully aware no conversation would actually occur by going to the storage room. She went for other reasons, and when she finally recognized that one of the reasons was because she had  _wanted_ something to happen between them, she broke away from Harry's lips.

"Harry!" she gasped, putting a hand against his chest.

"What?" he answered, lids heavy and wanting to resume the heady kissing. He tasted like liquor- like a mixture between sweets and whiskey. It was apparent he had been drinking throughout the night.

Hermione did not know what to say. She was stunned because she realized a part of her  _wanted_ this illicit interaction of theirs and that was giving her pause.

"What?" Harry repeated, moving her hand from his chest and trying to get to her again.

"We… we keep doing this, Harry!," Hermione commenced in a worried voice, the hand right back up against him, "It's becoming habit!" He looked at her, finally halting.

"Habit," the wizard stated after some silence.

"Yes! This isn't supposed to happen! We've done this too many times."

"So it's a problem." Harry attested in a flat voice.

"It's not good or helpful." Hermione pointed out, peering at him woefully.

"We've had a problem five different times then, Hermione."

"I  _know_."

It was quiet while they stared at each other.

"All right," he sighed after time had passed, "You're blocking the way out, then."

"What?" she uttered, blinking in surprise.

"You're in front of the door."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes. Why would I stay?" Harry asked seriously.

"B-But you told me to meet you! You can't just leave already!" Hermione insisted.

"Why the hell not? You just said this is a problem."

"We need to talk! I want to talk to you."

"About what? We've already done that!" he observed agitatedly.

"About  _this_!-" she started somewhat frantically, gesturing between them.

"We just did! You said it's a  _problem_  so I'm acknowledging that and leaving!"

"Yes, but-  _no_! You said that! Ugh, this isn't-"

Hermione did not get to finish her thought because Harry cut her off, pressing her body flat against the door by using his own and tightly gripping the hand that had been a nuisance.

"Hermione," he began roughly, "You tell me right now- and you say it, you explicitly s _ay_ it!- that you don't want this. That you want me to stop and leave this room and go back to the party. Say it and I'll do it. I'll leave you alone and never touch you again so you don't have to worry about any of this anymore."

While delivering this monologue, Harry had taken her right leg and raised it to his waist by gripping her thigh. He grinded against her and it was torturous; she clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut to keep from making a noise of pleasure. He was not playing fair. What he was doing felt fantastic and her body was already responding.

"Tell me what you want. I'll do it." Harry asserted, not stopping his movements. The witch emitted a small groan of frustration, conflict, and desire but she did not answer. When a verbal response was not given, the hand that was holding her thigh squeezed it.

" _Tell me_!" he hissed into her ear. He then nipped and bit it.

"Keep going! I, I-I want you to keep going!" Hermione revealed, panting it out as her eyes flew open.

Well, there it was.

"Good," growled Harry. He dove back in and started their heated kissing once more and she encouraged it by grabbing his suit coat in order to pull him closer.

His hand did not hold up her leg for too much longer. He let it drop back down but his hand then moved under her dress and in between her legs. Hermione let out a small cry when she felt Harry rubbing her slit through her underwear, and it took an astoundingly short amount of time before she felt how damp the fabric had become. She followed his hand, grating against it while she continued to clutch his suit coat (but had pulled away from his lips). His thumb began making patterns on her clit and she bucked forward with a loud moan. Shortly following this, Harry was exhaling hard as he made to rapidly remove the panties from her body and down her legs. Hermione helped him, her breathing becoming ladened as well.

"Don't bother wearing any next time," he declared once they were off. He threw them to the side without looking at them at all and the brunette seemed shocked by his bold statement.

He then took her hand and pulled her off and away from the door, moving further into the room before rapidly enveloping her in his embrace again. Harry's hands immediately sought out the back of her dress and pulled the zipper down as his mouth worked furiously against hers. His hands were then roughly pulling the dress down Hermione's shoulders until he got to her waist and her breasts were exposed. He stopped his movements and pulled back a bit to stare upon realizing she was not wearing a bra. (The dress had not allowed the witch to wear one as the bust area had been too tight). Harry used his fingers to lightly trace and caress her breasts as he continued to gaze at them, entranced. Hermione's nipples hardened fairly quickly due to his touch and the exposure to the room's brisk air. She let out a content moan when he grabbed and squeezed one and it seemed to draw him out of the languid trance he had been in since her breasts were revealed.

The dress was pulled down the remainder of her body in the blink of an eye, leaving Hermione completely naked. Goosebumps erupted on her skin due to the chill of the room and a dose of self consciousness. Harry had pulled away again. He looked her up and down with a hard expression but he had also taken off his suit coat.

"Lie down on the table," he ordered, starting to unbutton his gray shirt the rest of the way.

He was referring to the large, round chess table that sat in a corner of the room. It, too, was covered with a large cloth like many of the objects in the room, and had been the first chess table Ron had bought once he had his own source of income. Hermione stared at Harry but she started moving slowly toward the table, aware that the force between them had blazed back to life and taken control. He watched her trek, not dropping eye contact as he shrugged out of his shirt. She felt somewhat shaky as she got to the table and fell back on it as instructed, situating herself. The brunette looked up at the ceiling for a moment, taking a few deep breaths.

"Open your legs," he demanded. She bit her lip and felt like emitting a whine but did as she was told, albeit gradually. Her eyes remained trained on the ceiling, as she found it helped to steady her.

Hermione heard footsteps and not too long afterward she could sense that Harry had moved right next to her. This was confirmed when she felt his hands begin to glide up and down her legs, rubbing and gripping firmly. She closed her eyes and let her nerves enjoy the sensation he was causing. One hand moved to her inner thighs and, when she felt her lips being brushed, a pleased sound escaped her as her back arched involuntarily. A throaty chuckle came from him. Harry kept playing on and around her legs and it led Hermione into a dreamy sense of expectancy, so when the next thing she felt was her thighs being separated and steady  _breath_ down there, her heart started to slam in her chest. She opened her eyes and redirected her gaze downward, beginning to feel frantic. He was on his knees now and his hands held her thighs apart while his head was aligned perfectly at her center. Harry was staring directly at her from his view between her legs, his gaze challenging and dominant. He wasn't going to actually!-

"Harry!" Hermione choked out. But any words that were going to follow his name died away instantly the moment she felt the first lap of his tongue across her folds. She fell back and cried out helplessly.

Something ignited within him. He was tasting Hermione and she was delectable. Harry had not planned on going particularly slowly but after the first few licks he knew his pace had to be unhurried- he had to savor her. He had not anticipated being gripped like this.

Harry pushed her thighs further apart as he moved his tongue in deeper, fervently lapping everywhere he could. He made a moan of deep satisfaction as his tongue languidly ran over her clit three times. Goodness, she was so sweet… so sweet he began sucking.

Hermione felt like she was going to combust from the amount of pleasure she was receiving. It had not taken long before she started to thrash around wildly while her hands held the table's sheet in a vice like grip. She had been making clamorous noises from the second his mouth met her core. The witch was in stark disbelief this was happening, that the most famous British wizard's head was between her legs and moving in devotion. And what was making the pleasure even more unbearable was the fact that Harry was using his lips and tongue at such a torturously slow pace. It felt like blissful punishment.

It was when she felt his tongue eagerly push its way into her drenched cunt that Hermione went over the edge. She shouted an unintelligible "yes, yes" as her hands flew to his hair and pulled his head into her center even further, although there was essentially no space between them. Harry did not object and delved further inside with his tongue, releasing another groan of desire. Her eyes were shut once more and most of her back was lifted off the table as a rapid stream of jumbled words issued from her mouth. Hermione was instinctively bucking into his face as he thoroughly tongue fucked her. Consequently, all it took was his hand straying to her bud and stroking it persistently for her to unravel. Hermione screamed- truly screamed- as she came, and did not quiet until her orgasm had fully ebbed. Harry had ended up catching much of her juices in and around his mouth.

Hermione's lungs fought for air as she descended from her unbelievable high. Her legs shook violently although they felt limp like the rest of her body. Her middle pulsed and her hand weakly went down to cup it. Harry watched her rapaciously as he wiped his mouth on his right forearm and then steadily stood up again.

What a treat that had been.

"Did you enjoy that, Hermione?" he questioned in a low voice.

"Y-Y-Yes," she gasped in a trembling breath, body still reeling.

"Do you want more?"

The witch emitted a pitiful chirp. She could not think straight yet he was proposing they continue? The part of her that was not dazed yelled out that, yes, she wanted more. Harry used the time she was gathering herself to remove his slacks and boxer briefs. Going down on her and listening to her uninhibited vocalizations had done wonders for his erection; he was so stiff that it was actually a bit painful. He knew it was going to take marked self control to not merely plunge into Hermione and pound away recklessly.

"Merlin, you are still so sodding  _wet_. You're soaked!" Harry attested, standing right at her entrance but not touching it. Instead, his hand grazed her lips, catching some of her arousal and causing her to unconsciously follow his hand with a whimper.

"I think you want more, Hermione," he continued. His voice had adopted that sultry tone, "Which is why I'm going to fuck you now."

" _Oooh_ ," she uttered at last, peering at him with a pleading look. Her legs had only just stopped quivering so she was unsure if this was a plea to go on or give her senses a rest. Hermione's uncertainty did not seem to matter, however, because Harry was already deciding for her.

Seeing how wanton Hermione was in this room was cultivating something clandestine inside of him, something that was greedily latching onto how she looked and how she sounded, and how it was because of  _him_. It was making Harry feel a dangerous, gradual sense of power over her which only fed his own arousal. For this reason, he chose to stave off entering her just yet and, instead, took his shaft and rubbed it teasingly against her slit.

Hermione's head fell back once more as a labored sigh came from her mouth. The feeling of his hardness in such close proximity to her most sensitive parts was a rush of excitement and longing, and while the witch had been expecting Harry to push inside of her, this was an enticing alternative she could accept. Not only did it give her time to recover from the intense stimulation of before, but it also allowed her to become excited again at a lovely pace. Hermione was moving against his dick, following it whichever way it went as her arousal steadily built for a second time. Soft moans escaped her in sporadic spurts and he watched her respond to him with a covetous, satisfied expression.

At one point, with a smirk that she could not see, Harry stopped his torturous caressing of her folds and moved right to her entrance, where he lazily inserted the tip of his member. Hermione let out a loud gasp that could have passed for a "yes." Her legs fell open wider in anticipation and her hips raised a bit off the table; she was finally getting what her body craved. Conversely, she felt him pull out in the next instance and felt herself jolt in outrage when he made no attempt to move back.

" _No_!" Hermione remarked, gazing at him in aggravation and need. Her fingers were clutching the cloth of the table once again. Why had he done that? She had been more than ready!

"No?," he repeated, sounding too puzzled for it to be genuine, "Did I do something, Hermione?" Harry was now stroking himself slowly yet firmly as he looked at her.

"Y-You said that you…" the witch initiated. She did not complete her thought as her eyes fell to his groin, where his hand massaged his penis in a way that transfixed her. Hermione could see that it was halfway glistening, no doubt from her arousal but likely his precum as well.

Harry squeezed the tip, issuing a low hiss, and her eyes shot to his face again. Harry's eyes were so shrouded with lust that the green was hard to make out amongst all the black.

"I said something?" he inquired. She nodded like a small child before her gaze darted to his moving hand once more. He was stroking harder and Hermione felt her breath become more shallow, like it had been when he had been rubbing against her. His cock should have been sheathed inside of her, not his own hand.

"What did I say?" Harry prompted, his voice taking on that erotic, hard tone again.

"That you w-were going to, to…" Hermione replied. But she stopped, not completing her thought since she had become distracted once more by Harry pumping himself. She was both envious and turned on.

"Say it. Say it if you want it, Hermione. We had this talk earlier," he bit out, trying to remain in control of his alarmingly mounting desire.

"You said you were going to fuck me!," she rushed to say, chest heaving and eyes bright, "You said so!"

"Ah. I did say that, didn't I?," Harry replied, licking his lips as his raked his eyes over her body for about the 80th time that night, "So, that's what you want."

"Yes."

"Then beg for it."

The command came through clenched teeth. A strangled exhale came through Hermione's partially agape mouth. She was a bit surprised and took a long moment to answer, but she knew she would undoubtedly do as he had demanded. At this point she was desperate for Harry.

"Please. Please, Harry. Fuck me. I need it. I need you. And I want it- I want it so very badly. I can hardly stand it...  _Please_ ," she supplied, eyes not leaving his face.

He soaked it up entirely. Panting lightly, he stepped back to her entrance in a flash and slid easily into Hermione without a second thought.

"Good girl." Harry groaned out. His groan of bliss had mixed with her own guttural moan and her eyes had rolled behind her lids in ecstasy.

It had been many weeks since he had been inside of Hermione and it was only his third time ever doing so. The goodness of it was momentarily overwhelming. Harry took a moment to both adjust and savor the feeling: to feel her pulse and contract around him, to be fully enveloped in sheer heat and moisture. Harry savagely reminded himself to demonstrate as much self control as he could muster as he began thrusting, sucking in air through his teeth while his hands held Hermione's waist. He rutted against her in a steady yet acute manner, each thrust forward a sharp movement that she felt reverberate pleasantly. His strong plows caused her breasts to bounce delectably in timed synchrony and it did not take very long before Harry started watching them in yearning.

"Does it feel good, Hermione?" he asked, moving a bit faster and gazing as her mounds did as well.

"God,  _yes_ ," the witch moaned.

"You like it when I have you this way?"

"Mmmm..."

"Touch yourself. Play with yourself," was his next order, alternating between staring at her face and breasts. He could not articulate what about Hermione's breasts had him hooked, for he was not even typically captivated like this by Ginny's, but maybe it had to do with the simple fact that they belonged to Hermione, and he had developed this slight addiction to her over the course of two months.

The brunette said nothing but listened to his directive. Her left hand covered its corresponding breast, grasping fixedly periodically, while her right hand focused on her nipple, pinching it until it was nicely perked. Another moan slipped from her throat as she fondled her own chest.

"That's it. That's a good girl!" he panted, driving into her harder and faster as his fingers dug a bit into her hips.

Hermione continued playing with her breasts and making corresponding noises while Harry's gaze and hold on her body did not falter. He knew he could climax easily and quickly at this rhythm by watching her and gradually thrusting into her more forcefully. But he did not want to. He wanted to prolong the amazing sensation of their sex and maintain this feeling of lust fueled dominance over her. He was feeling utterly consumed again and it was giving him hedonistic satisfaction. Harry knew he had to distract himself in some way to help ensure he lasted longer.

"Are you a good girl, Hermione?" he asked.

" _Yesss_ ," she remarked. The word seemed to melt from her mouth. Her hands had finally stilled their massaging but continued to hold her mounds, and her eyes remained closed. She appeared to be fully enjoying his rough pumping.

"For who?"

"Yo-  _ah_!," the witch was interrupted by a particularly harsh (but fulfilling) jerk of his pelvis.

"Who?" Harry questioned.

He leaned forward heavily, his right hand leaving her hip to go lay flat on the table to help support his weight. He rammed into her sharply a few times and Hermione gave a small scream. He was filling her completely. She could feel his dick at the back of her cervix.

"YOU! You, Harry! Just for you!" Hermione half sobbed, half shouted. The feeling of his shaft this deep and far within her was unbelievable. She did not know if this sexual interlude between them was truly this good or if the alcohol was making her perception of it better.

"You're  _my_  good girl, huh?" he wondered, feeling emboldened from her statement, "Yes, you are. I know you are. And good girls get what they ask for," he mentioned, eyes flashing.

"Yes!"

Harry had stopped moving but was staring at her, arm continuing to help him hover over her. The brunette returned his gaze desperately. (Her eyes had shot open when he had leaned into her all the way).

"And you know what? I also think good girls like to be  _fucked_  from behind," he growled suddenly into her ear, causing her to groan, "Turn over!"

Harry pulled out of her unceremoniously which caused Hermione to gasp. She then scrambled to comply, not wanting to be separated from him longer than was necessary. He helped by maneuvering and pushing Hermione further up the table before finally joining her on its surface. Harry swiftly lined himself back up at her entrance but did not push inside; instead, he lowered her head further down so her rear came up even higher, and he positioned her hips and ass to his liking. The view was spectacular and made him feel even more primal. He placed a few soft kisses in the middle of her back before entering her once again, the last vestiges of tenderness that he would show in their love making.

She sighed sensually and Harry felt her squeeze him as though welcoming him back. From the moment he gave his first, hearty stroke, he knew there would be no disciplined control and very limited spoken words in this position. Harry had been fit to burst since he had finished eating Hermione out, truthfully, and he had miraculously managed to hold it off up to this point, but no longer. He was not going to ration his sexual appetite for Hermione anymore tonight and was going to let his instinct take over.

He grit his teeth while he held her waist and almost immediately began pounding into her. A surprised noise came from her that indicated she had not been expecting Harry to move this fiercely inside of her, but also conveyed that she did not mind. His consistent pumping was causing her ass to bounce against him and he licked his lips as he watched this tantalizing sight before him and heard frequent moans slip from her throat once more. Harry wanted release with and through Hermione. He wanted it to engulf him. He wanted it to be mind numbing. And he was determined to get it.

He moved faster, harder, and more forcefully. The sounds she was making began to sound more despairing and aching and her ass jiggled against his pelvis quickly the more bluntly he moved. Harry felt hot and primitive, fucking Hermione into this table being the lone thing on his mind. He wanted to hear her cry out for him again. He  _loved_ hearing his name be wrenched from her tongue in intense yearning. His hips flew forward in earnest as one hand went to grope and then smack Hermione's right cheek; it jounced even more in response. Harry groaned and did it again, twice.

" _More_!" the witch gasped, moving back against him at the feel of him spanking her.

"More?" he asked darkly. Oh, he had no problem giving her more.

Hermione's hair had come undone earlier while Harry's head had been in between her thighs. Now, he grabbed a fistful of it in his left hand and pulled back harshly, as though it were a rein on a horse. She shouted.

"Like this? Huh? This is what you want?" Harry ground out. The hold on her hair was perfect for his rabid pace and maintenance of control. He was now slamming into her.

The increased ferocity both caught Hermione off guard and thrilled her. He was moving so aggressively. She could not reply with words, too captive to his dominance, and so her vocalizations only grew louder and more frenzied.

"I want you to forget how to say anything but my name," Harry informed her directly into her ear, having pulled her head back enough to speak in it. His voice was gravelly and raw, "I don't want you to be able to walk straight for a week. I want you to get wet just from the mere sight of me!"

Hermione was wailing uncontrollably. Harry had cast any and all charms related to hearing first thing when he walked into the storage room, which had been great foresight because the amount of noise coming from the pair was remarkable. The brunette could tell how swollen she would be following this heated interlude but she did not care. She was only concerned with rutting back against Harry's relentless thrusts, obtaining as much pleasure from this as was physically possible. Hermione was so close to her second orgasm that she became single minded in reaching it; she felt like the house could start crumbling to the ground around them and she would not have moved to get out until she came.

Consequently, Harry could feel his impending orgasm and was hyperfocused on achieving it as well. His head lolled back while his mouth fell open and his eyes shut, his grip on her hair not wavering and, in fact, tightening. His words had finally dried up in pursuit of blinding release. Swirling, coiling… mounting tension that was collecting all in one area of his loins. And all because of Hermione- because her body did things to his that he had never anticipated.

Harry vaguely registered when Hermione climaxed as he was so driven by chasing his own. The witch was initially silent when it first hit, her facial expression serving as evidence of it, but then she quietly pled his name over and over as she rode its natural wave. Harry did not finish immediately following her but the spasming of her walls around his penis from her orgasm greatly egged his on and, soon enough, his erratic stroking gave way to his end. It felt like he was bursting into light all over as he gasped out a " _Fuck_!" and his eyes widened in arrest. He trembled violently while one hand continued to pull her hair and the other kept her waist in place as he emptied himself inside of her.

Hermione had barely been able to hold herself up once she had finished for her second time, but when Harry's climax finally resolved she fell forward, shaking and covered in sweat. They both had a layer of perspiration but her eyes were wrenched shut while his remained open and alert; she was whimpering whereas he was panting, yet they both sounded utterly spent. Harry took some time before pulling out and when he did he rolled pitifully to the right side of Hermione, a hand going to his head as he fought for steady breathing. She lay on her stomach with an arm curled beneath her and he stared at the ceiling before running a hand through his hair.

They said nothing.

The room reeked of sex.

And that had been amazing.

Harry was drunk but that had surely cleared his head to a certain degree. He looked over and saw that Hermione's eyes remained shut although it was fairly obvious she was awake. What time was it? How long had they been in this room together? It had been just about 2AM when she had first arrived, so now? It was like time had come to a complete halt the moment she stepped inside but now it had resumed and was making itself horribly known.

Harry sat up, the room spinning just a bit. He huffed as he stood up to gather his clothes and began putting them back on in a haphazard manner. Languid thoughts drifted through Hermione's mind as she listened to his movements, caught in a post-sex dreamy haze. (One of these thoughts was that she definitely needed a shower after that very passionate workout).

"Harry," she murmured softly. He did not seem to hear her. He was re-buttoning his shirt with a concentrated look on his face and fishing around for his shoes with his feet. She did not try again right away and let the silence re-emerge while Harry finished dressing.

The brunette patiently waited for Harry to start dialogue but when it did not come she decided to initiate it once more. However, Hermione heard a door open right as she opened her mouth to call him a second time. This appeared to shatter the haze she was in and she swiftly sat up with open eyes, a breath stuck in her throat from surprise. What she saw was Harry's back as he walked out of the room and snapped the door closed behind him, no vocalization of any kind leaving his throat. She gawked at the space he had just occupied.

He had gone. He was gone. And this time, unlike their first time, there had been no clearing of the stuffy air, cleaning of Hermione's center, or gentle touches to indicate goodbye. Harry had just walked out without saying a word, leaving Hermione a disheveled mess on the table, gaping in his wake.

Flushed, coated in dry sweat, and body dimly ringing, she stared at the door. Before she had fully processed what she was doing or why, a sob wracked Hermione's form and she began crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Harry will talk more about what is happening between them and that's how Chapter 4 starts out, after Hermione colorfully expresses how she felt about Harry leaving her on New Year's Eve. It was asshole-y how he left, yes, but he answers for it.


	4. Chapter 4

Teddy went back to his grandmother's in anticipation of returning to Hogwarts and Hermione did not come to the Ministry for an entire work week. Harry thought nothing of it on Monday, January 2nd, yet by the end of the Tuesday he wondered what was going on, seeing as how he had not seen her at all. Had she been submerged in a significant amount of work? He decided to ask Hermione's assistant but by the time he thought to do so it was evening and Roger had gone home for the day. When the Muggleborn was nowhere to be seen on Wednesday as well, Harry went into Diagon Alley during his lunch to seek out Ron at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. George did not happen to be in the store but Ron was happy to see his best friend and they promptly left to go eat at one of the newer pubs in the district. The Head Auror waited until lunch was halfway over to ask about Hermione so as not to come off as suspicious or desperate.

"So, I haven't seen Hermione at the Ministry this week. What's, er, what's up? Is she okay?" he questioned, glancing at the red head as he took a fry.

"Hermione's fine! She's just been working from home- will be all week." Ron revealed, taking a sip of his beer.

"Oh..." The news made Harry feel both pacified and rather disappointed.

"It's nice. I've been at the shop less because she's at home. The kids love it and I do too, honestly. You know she can be a workaholic so having her around like this is good."

"What was the reason behind that?" Harry inquired.

"Dunno! She was home on Monday but I reckoned she was just tired from the party, but Tuesday morning I asked her why she wasn't at the Ministry and she told me she had decided to do work from home for the week. Then she made a delicious breakfast and I didn't ask any more questions." Ron relayed.

The dark haired wizard simply nodded before shoving another fry in his mouth. He felt odd, somehow, that he had not been informed of this. Not liking this feeling and now aware of what had happened, he dropped the subject and finished their pleasant lunch.

Hermione dominated many of Harry's thoughts for the remainder of the week. He constantly thought about their last encounter at the party and how terrific and consuming it had been. Granted, he had not spoken to her after leaving the storage room but he had been planning to do that their first day back at the Ministry. Harry could not recall climaxing that fiercely or for that long in an exceptionally long time, and while he believed his sex life with his wife was great (likely better than most married couples'), he was having trouble remembering a time with Ginny in recent memory that had excited him to that degree.

Indeed, his sex with Hermione on New Year's Eve had been so visceral that if he thought about it long enough, he would become hard. Harry instantly tried to divert his concentration to something else when this happened, especially when he was working and around others, but during one such instance on Friday he simply gave in and let the memory take over.

Hastily enacting the Repellant Charm that engulfed his office when he did not want to be disturbed, Harry freed his cock from its clothed prison with a laborious sigh and closed his eyes. He thought of what it had been like having Hermione in the storage room and witnessing her totally uninhibited while he jerked off behind his desk. He had cum hard and a bit unexpectedly, his forehead falling on the desk's surface with a thud as he groaned out his ecstasy, hand pumping furiously. He remained face down for a long stint of time, letting frustration, worry, and defeat culminate within his brain, and when he finally moved again to clean himself up, he realized he had a serious fucking problem. Hermione had been right. This was a problem-  _she_  was his problem.

Harry had subconsciously expected to see or hear from Hermione during the weekend but when it did not come to pass, he felt put out. There was no contact from her on Saturday and by mid-Sunday afternoon he asked if Ginny had spoken to her since New Year's Eve (which she had not). In an attempt to address not speaking to the brunette for a full week, Harry told Ginny they should go out to eat dinner with their in-laws. She was agreeable but when the stag Patronus was sent to Ron, a reply came back 30 minutes later from the russell terrier revealing that they were out with Hugo and Rose for the day and would have to take a rain check. This left Harry to feel irritated.

Hermione was back at work on Monday, January 9th. Harry saw her two hours into his shift and felt considerable relief at the sight of her, but it may have been premature because he did not get to speak to her at any point during the day. It should not have been a surprise- with her absence all last week, multiple employees were vying for her time and attention to deal with important matters. He swallowed his disappointment and tended to his own work until it was time for him to go home, reasoning he would speak to her the succeeding day without fail.

Harry did finally get to talk to Hermione the next day but, initially, he may have wished that the silence between them persisted. He had decided to directly seek her out in the morning to jumpstart a conversation but when he got to her office her assistant denied him entrance. Bewildered, he inquired as to why he could not see her and Roger informed him that Hermione had requested to not be interrupted by anyone unless it was the Minister himself. Harry looked at her closed door with a noticeable frown before taking his leave and returning to his own office. Hours went by with no word from her and by 3pm he assumed he was not going to be able to speak to her today either, which caused him to feel marked sadness. However, half an hour later his door was being pushed open without announcement and someone came rushing inside.

Harry jumped out of his chair, vigilant. No one just walked into the Head Auror's office without announcing themselves: no one. He was in defensive mode and already reaching for his wand inside his robes, but his alertness melted away upon seeing that Hermione had been the one to shoot into his office. Happiness filled his chest as he looked at her familiar face but, like the vigilance before it, it quickly left as well. Something was not right. As the door closed forcefully behind her, the witch looked like a hotbed of many emotions: upset, frustration, hurt and, most notably, anger. What had happened?

Harry was going to open his mouth to ask her this, to inquire if she was okay, but in the next instant her wand had raised, pointed at him, and fired a spell.

He was hit with a hex and stark alarm at what had occurred. Hermione had just… used magic against him? Was this real? The answer came in the form of another spell from the end of her wand but this time, while the shock remained, the incantation did not land. Auror for a reason, Harry had silently conjured a strong shield off which the spell bounced and hit the left side of his desk, leaving it to sizzle. She did not let up and two jinxes came next while anger became more pronounced on her face.

"Hermione!" Harry called as the jinxes rebounded off his invisible shield and shot elsewhere in the room. She was attacking him!

The brunette raised her arm and swung it around her head before pointing her wand at him again in a sharp movement. This spell was powerful; it actually caused the wizard to drop his shield due to being pushed back and falling against his chair. Hermione moved forward, continuing to look fierce, but Harry conjured another defensive charm in time before her spell could cause him any damage.

"Hermione, please!" he tried again. Wrath was clear on her face while Harry's showed concern, confusion, and worry. Hermione was  _attacking_  him! He had to get her to stop in order to figure out what was wrong.

Refusing to be offensive with one of his closest friends, even if this friend was on a rampage against him, Harry continued to rely on the defensive mode he had been forced into since she had barged into his office.

" _Immobulus_!" he declared with vigor, arm shooting out to the right while his protective charm remained.

Hermione was immediately rendered immobile. Then, silently, Harry effortlessly cast the Disarming Charm and her wand fell from her frozen hand. He let his defensive spell fall away while he stared at her, baffled; she peered back and look murderous. Hesitating a bit, he walked from around his desk and picked up her wand before coming to face her. Distress showed on his countenance.

"Hermione, I had to do that. I'm sorry," he croaked in regret, "I'm going to release you now, okay? Just… I'm just going to keep both wands."

Harry first waved his wand at his door to enact his office's Repellant Charm before he swept it over over her. He then hastily deposited both pieces of wood inside of his robes for the aforementioned safe keeping. The loss of her wand did not stop Hermione from continuing her attack, however.

" _You!_ " she shouted, face still twisted with a bevy of emotion. The brunette used both of her hands to shove him in the chest and he stumbled once more.

" _Hermione_!" Harry said in alarm. He received another violent push.

"You! You left me on New Year's Eve! You just left me like that, in that room! How could you just leave me like that?! You selfish  _prat_!"

A nasty dose of realization settled on the the wizard. The New Year's Eve party… he had merely walked out of the storage room after that intense bout of sex and said nothing to her, woozy on alcohol and physical satisfaction. This recognition was quickly followed by guilt and shame and they played out on his facial expression.

"Shit.  _Shit._  Merlin! Hermione, I'm sorry!," he commenced in a distraught voice, "I-I'm so sorry! I didn't know, I didn't think!-"

"When do you? You impulsive oaf!" Hermione yelled. She went to assault him again but he caught her hands after a bit of a struggle and held them right against his chest.

"Hermione, please!" Harry tried again.

"Let  _go_  of me!"

"I apologize! For New Year's! I shouldn't have left you!"

"You only realize this now, after  _I_ bring it up!," Hermione spat, "Get  _off_!"

"I'm!… God, I was so  _stupid_! Shit!," Harry attested, shaking his head. It were as though he was thinking outloud, "Hermione,  _please_. I'm so incredibly sorry!"

"You  _are_  sorry!"

"I wanted to talk to you, right when we got back to work! But you didn't-"

"You just left! Where did you go, Harry?!" the witch posited.

"W-What?" he wondered, somewhat caught off guard.

"When I got back to the party you were gone! You weren't even in the house! After you left me to  _cry_ , I showered and then got back to the party but you had left! Where did you go?"

His heart lurched at her remark that she had cried. He had caused her to weep? She had shed tears over him?

"Hermione-" Harry began woefully, feeling even more shame engulf his insides.

"Answer me!" she demanded.

"Home! I went home. W-We left 15 minutes after I… you and I... I was drunk! I cleaned up a bit before going back... when I found Ginny she asked me where I had been and I lied. I-I told her I had fallen asleep and you took me to one of the spare rooms before going to bed yourself. I wasn't in the right state of mind! I'm sorry!"

"Stop saying that!"

"But I am! I'm  _sorry_! You didn't deserve that! I wasn't thinking of you and I should have been!" he relayed.

"Yes, acknowledging me after  _fucking_ me would have been nice!," Hermione retorted, "Do you know how I felt?!" She had managed to free herself from his hold and took a few forceful steps back, glaring. The anger on her face was going nowhere anytime soon, it seemed, but now hurt was more apparent as well. He watched her helplessly and feebly shook his head.

"Used.  _Used_ , Harry! Dispensable! Insignificant!  _Cheap_!" she asserted.

The confession made him feel wretched. Sorry no longer seemed adequate and he did not know fitting words to capture how remorseful he was feeling, but he had to say something to convey his feelings.

"You're none of those things," Harry insisted, his voice cracking, "And I would  _never_  use you, Hermione. Never.  _God_! I could curse myself for making you feel that way!"

"I was trying," the witch hissed. She moved even further away and sat down on one of the room's two cozy, cushioned chairs. He watched her sadly yet was quiet as her bitterness and his anguish simmered.

"Sorry isn't enough, Hermione. I won't wish for your forgiveness so easily when I really wish I just had not done something so callous to you." Harry stated after long pause.

Hermione said nothing. This time the silence between them lasted even longer as he continued standing and gazing at her, but her countenance began to change with the more silence that passed. The anger had seemingly run its course and the frustration, upset, and hurt took its place.

"I hate that I caused you to cry," he commented again, voice still sounding pained. She shook her head and scoffed before responding.

"I cried because you left me so rudely, yes. But that's only part of the reason. I also cried because… because I have no idea what I'm doing," the witch confessed. She was hugging herself as she looked up at him, "Harry,  _what_ are we doing?"

Hermione's inquiry shook him. She had taken them back to the one question that loomed over them, the one question that they ran to and away from when it suited them, the one question that should have been simple but was not. The one question for which they had not yet found an answer.

"What are we doing?  _Why_? It's a mess! So many things are just a mess! And all because we can't-  _won't_ \- keep our hands to ourselves? It's mad!" she remarked heatedly. The brunette was looking at Harry expectantly but damned if he had anything worthwhile or appeasing to say about this.

"We don't even talk about most of our blunders, mistakes, transgressions… whatever you want to call them! We just go on like nothing out of the ordinary is happening!" she exclaimed.

"So we'll talk! We'll talk now!" the wizard mollified. He wanted to fix this anyhow he could and erase the emotional upheaval she was in due to his actions.

"Fine. We talk about this right now. So, I repeat: what are we doing?"

Harry knew he could not stay quiet again for this question. Hermione awaited a response from him and God help him if he did not reply.

"I-I don't know, Hermione! I still don't know!" he admitted truthfully, gesturing with his hands. She did not appear to want to hear this because she let out a short lived aggravated yell, head falling into her hands.

"We're being stupid, Harry! We're being stupid and we can't even explain it! That doesn't sound right!" Hermione declared. His own hands went to his hair as he pulled back on it tensely.

"No, it doesn't," he admitted.

"And we've been outrageously careless! Snogging in your kitchen, shagging in your office at home- snogging here, at  _work_? We could've easily been caught any of those times!"

"Yes. We could've."

"Can you imagine that happening? The consequences would be devastating!" she postulated, looking at him in disbelief. Devastating, colossal, terrifying- all of it. Weeks of burying logic and thought related to their indiscretions was over and Harry began to feel antsy and unsettled, so he moved about his office.

"We've been reckless, a-and obviously not thinking. Going on instinct," Harry commented, hands remaining in his hair while he paced, "And no, we haven't been talking about this."

"Which has made it worse! We just do it and then ignore it, until the next next time!"

"It's, it's stupid- yes. I-I've never even asked if you were- if you  _are_ \- using something or doing something for, for protection. I've just been…. I didn't think to realize or consider that you could, you could actually get…"

His pacing stopped and he peered at her, and Hermione noticed his eyes rapidly dart to her abdomen before settling on her face again. She caught the implication. The brunette actually felt her expression darken as her insides tensed.

"No, we never discussed that either," she started in a cold tone, "But it's not something you have to worry about. Apart from the fact that I've never left my fate in the hands of a man, I'm not having any more children; I always have and will take care of any and everything related to that." Relief was exhumed from his body as he nodded but there was shock as well. Harry had not known that Hermione was intentionally planning to not have any more children. The subject had not come up with either of his best friends but it was, ultimately, a matter that did not involve him.

"Oh. Okay. Right," the wizard acknowledged, exhaling, "Merlin, what a  _nightmare_  that situation would be." Hermione kept quiet but when he looked to her again he saw that her expression darkened even further.

"I-I-I don't mean you having a child would be a nightmare! No! You're not a nightmare and neither would your child be! You're amazing! I-I just mean the circumstances would be a nightmare, if  _we_ accidentally had, h-had a… baby. Just because it would be ours. Considering our lives-" Harry awkwardly explained.

"I know what you mean, Harry. And yes- it would," she attested quietly, the stormy look gone from her face. He gave a quick nod and then cleared his throat, glancing at her before looking away in partial embarrassment.

"In a different life, having a child with you would be an honor… just so you know. For me, for anyone," he mentioned after a brief interlude of silence. She looked at him in surprise; when her gaze fell to the floor, her cheeks were tinted pink.

"We can't keep being reckless. We can't keep making things worse. We can't keep avoiding talking. And we can't keep doing this to ourselves and… and the people we love." Hermione slowly claimed after some time.

"You are one of the people I love." This had come out without thought or filter.

"So do this for me and I'll do it for you. We stop for each other. Our love for one another is a large factor as to why we're even in this situation in the first place, but we've gotten confused! We shouldn't show that we love each other in this way! It's not right."

He did not reply but was gazing at her. She pressed on when she sensed he would remain quiet.

"I… I like how I feel when I'm with you, Harry. When I'm with you physically. I do- I realized that," the witch confessed. She was peering at him and unaware that she was blushing. He continued staring, "But I hate how I feel when it ends, and that lasts much longer! I feel like the party was a wake up call that forced me to face the reality of what we are doing."

The wizard said nothing still and persisted in staring at her.

"Say something!" Hermione half shouted, standing up.

"You're right, Hermione, okay? Of course you're right! This is wrong and we shouldn't be involved this way and we're hurting those in our lives! Damn it, I hurt  _you_!," Harry exclaimed, finally speaking and moving again, "We can't even figure out why this started or why it's kept up! And… and, yes. The emotions that come after being with you… they're heavy. They don't feel good."

"It's gotten to the point where we're, finally, lying to our spouses. We have to stop, Harry." He peered at her.

"You lied to Ron?" he asked.

"At the party, yes. He wanted to know where I had disappeared as well. I… I told him I had gotten tired, taken a break. I went to bed soon afterward while he stayed up for another half an hour. Mind you, I had to do this while pretending to be okay after I had just finished crying profusely," she revealed. His heart fell again at the mention of the emotional turmoil he had caused her.

"Hermione, I can't say it enough." Harry noted, reaching out and taking her hand before registering his action. The brunette allowed it.

"I know. I believe you."

"I will never leave you that way again. I never want to make you feel that way again!"

"And we can't be in that predicament again, Harry. We have to stop. W-We can't let it get worse! I think we're confused- the lines of our relationship have gotten blurred- but we have to stop! We  _can_  stop." Hermione relayed, looking at him earnestly. He bowed his head but nodded, a frown overtaking his countenance.

"All right. We stop. We stop," Harry confirmed, "I'm  _sorry_ , Hermione- you don't understand how much. Not just for New Year's but, but for everything. Since Halloween. I'm sorry."

"It's not only your fault, Harry. But thank you."

She then wrapped her arms around his neck and initiated a tight hug, which he reciprocated without any reticence. She closed her eyes as another wave of emotion washed over her.

"We'll be okay! We just have to get a hold on this! We can do it." Hermione informed. He nodded once more in response and held onto her, his own eyes shutting.

Stop. They had to stop. Had to.

The following morning, Hermione received a surprise. She had been drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen by herself when the doorbell rang, a rarity in and of itself. The children were still sleeping and Ron was upstairs getting ready for the day so she walked curiously to the double doors to answer the call, wand by her side. What she discovered was not a person but an impressive bouquet of flowers in a quaint basket. They were illuminated by small, golden lights and the flowers were Hermione's favorites: white jasmines and blue bellflowers. Happy surprise bloomed in her chest as the brunette picked it up and carried it into the house. Based on the types of flowers in the basket she assumed it was for her, and she received confirmation of this when she inspected it further back in the kitchen. A simple note on a small piece of parchment sat humbly amongst the flowers:

_I'm sorry for being an arse. I know I can be quite good at it._

_HP_

Hermione read it with a wry yet content smile. She put the note back in the basket and resumed drinking her coffee silently, admiring and touching the flowers as she drank. She did not notice Ron come into the room until he squeezed her shoulder on the way to the refrigerator. (They had quite a few Muggle inventions in their home which had been Hermione's influence).

"Hi," she greeted while Ron hunted for food.

"When are you going into work?" he asked.

"Quarter of an hour."

There was some silence until he found what he wanted and wandered back by her side. He set the items down next to her and noticed the flowers.

"Hello," the red head started, peering at them, "Where'd these come from?" Hermione looked as Ron reached into the basket and picked out the note to read.

"Lovely, aren't they?" she posited.

"An apology from Harry?" her husband prompted with a grin.

"Mmmm."

"What'd he do now?" Hermione felt her chest constrict and she looked at him sideways with a perceptive glance.

"Something ill advised at work and I had to deal with the consequences," the witch lied.

"Rash one, he can be. And yes- skilled at being an arse when he wants." Ron stated, enjoying his playful bashing of his friend.

"Something you two have in common as best friends, love!" she smirked, putting the note back in the basket.

Harry received his own surprise when he got into his office during the late morning. A picture of Hermione's basket of flowers sat on his desk and the golden lights blinked prettily in the photograph; scrawled on the bottom was a 'thank you' followed by heart. He picked it up and smiled, pleased to know that she had appreciated his gesture of remorse. He opened one of the desk drawers and put the picture inside, thinking he would allow Hermione her space for the day in case she continued to need it.

By Thursday Hermione seemed to be fully at peace with Harry, for which the wizard was immensely grateful. He had been painfully truthful when he had told her things did not seem right when there was conflict between them so her forgiveness was wholly welcomed. Their lunch dates had even reignited at the end of the week and Harry found himself looking at the picture of her flowers from time to time. Her assertion that physical intimacy between them had to stop had rung through his head since the day she made it, usually marching through his brain at night or when he was alone for extended periods of time. He had agreed, his rational side completely understanding that what they had been doing since Halloween was wrong on countless levels. It was common sense (and something called decency) that they could not continue sharing a physical relationship with one another.

But Harry's irrational side, the side that the strong, magnetic force called to, was not sure that it would be so simple. This irrational side was also loud. He had now had Hermione more than once in a way he had never expected; she herself had claimed that being with him made her feel good! (He secretly reveled in this fact as though he were a boy who had found a small treasure). She seemed to have awaken something unknown within him, something that seemed vital and was undisputably pleasurable. It was a continual struggle for Harry. Consequently, Hermione must have had a similar irrational side that felt and thought like his because, one day, during the first part of the new work week, she did not remind Harry of the agreement to stop while he screwed her against one of the walls in her office.

If you had asked her how they had come to break their promise in one week's time, she could not have given a straight answer. One minute they had been speaking casually about a non DMLE matter, Harry lingering around from concluded work business, and the next minute Hermione was being pressed into the wall as Harry grunted against her neck and moved inside her with purpose. The witch did not know who had started it the fourth time in her office but perhaps that was moot. Perhaps what mattered is that they seemed to be hauntingly entrapped.

* * *

The fifth time happened two weeks later on a Saturday at the Burrow and was initiated by Hermione. Ron's, Harry's, and Bill's families were all congregating at Molly's and Arthur's home for no reason in particular. As it was nearly February, the weather was biting and cold so the children's play was confined inside but they did appear to care. From the moment Hermione had seen Ginny and Harry arrive with their brood, the last ones to do so, she had been struck with how enticing her dark haired friend looked. There was nothing overtly different about his appearance from most other moments: he walked inside in a black winter coat with the collar up with cheeks tinged from the cold. But for some reason she could not identify, the brunette found him more attractive than usual as she furtively watched him throughout the afternoon. Were her hormones just in overdrive? Was she turned on by the frosty weather because her body was looking for sources of warmth? Whatever the case, Hermione had trouble keeping her mind off sexual thoughts related to Harry and, after almost two hours since his arrival, she could not take it any longer.

The witch had thought of a way to get him alone with relative ease. (Sometimes, many times, it was a God send working in the same setting as Harry). She purposefully disappeared for a couple minutes before returning to the living room where most of the adults were clustered and socializing. Hermione announced she'd been sent a Patronus by a flustered Auror involved in a case that included both of them, requesting they help her resolve an urgent matter; she spun her tale while feigning exasperation and resignation. It was not entirely unusual for unexpected DMLE matters to occasionally interrupt their weekends but it was usually unwelcomed, and the pair's partners knew better than to inquire about specifics since it was normally classified.

"Next time tell 'er to figure it out on her own!" Ron called as two thirds of the trio climbed the stairs to seek out privacy in another room.

"Ronald!" Molly scolded.

Hermione felt antsy and giddy as they walked to the third floor. Harry was likely under the assumption that an Auror had truly contacted the brunette about a case and this was confirmed when they entered a bedroom.

"Who was it? What case is it? The McNolty case?" he asked as she hastily cast  _Muffliato_  and  _Silencio_. She shook her head as she tossed her wand somewhere on a coffee table.

"No. No case," she answered.

"Then what-"

Hermione felt like she jumped into Harry's arms, surely surprising him, but she kissed him him hungrily and bit at his lower lip for a bit before pulling back, heart thumping away.

"I couldn't keep my eyes off you and I just… I felt like I was going to lose it if I couldn't do something about it," she claimed.

Initially, he had felt mild, brief astonishment at her move yet responded relatively quickly in returning her kisses. However, her confession seemed to bring forth an observable change in him as his eyes showed where his train of thought was headed.

"You schemed to get me up here because you want to do something about it?," Harry wondered, hands going under her shirt to snake up her back, " _What_ do you want to do about it, Hermione?"

"Take a guess," she noted, pushing her chest into his.

"Here? At the Burrow?"

"Only this once."

"What happened to being careless?" he questioned, right hand moving to grope her breast.

"That was ruined two weeks ago in my office. And we won't be anymore- not after this!" Hermione remarked in a breathy tone, moving into his touch. She placed her hand on top of his and guided it under her bra, hearing him let out a shaky breath.

"I thought we agreed that we have to stop."

"We did! But! But..."

"But what?" Harry prompted, hand continuing caressing her breast as his mouth swiftly attached to her neck.

"That didn't stop us two weeks ago!," she observed, clutching him as she rocked her body against his, "And, and it's hard!"

"Merlin, yes! Yes it is."

He quieted down and granted more attention to her throat before the witch grew impatient and grabbed a hold of his face to direct his lips back to hers. They traded rousing kisses until he broke away for a second to grasp her shirt and yank it over her head.

"You really want to do this, Hermione?" Harry posited before he pulled her firmly against him and lifted her up some. He then pulled down one of her bra's cups and latched his mouth onto the bare breast.

" _Yes_!" This came out as a whine.

"We'd have to be fast," he commented in between flicks of his tongue.

"I don't care! I just want you!"

For the first time since they had started having sporadic trysts, Hermione took charge. She was the one to push him on the bed, she was the one to get on top and straddle him, and she was the one who commenced most of their touching. Harry hazily remembered that he had had sex with Ginny in the shower that morning and wondered if he should feel polluted for shagging them both in the same day, something that had never happened before. Conversely, when he felt Hermione's hand wrap around his shaft and stroke ardently, also something that had never happened before, he choked on air and the thought was pushed to the back of his mind. When he felt and saw her lower herself onto his dick and begin riding him with a happy moan, the thought left his mind entirely.

"We were supposed to have stopped." Harry groaned at some point, hands helping to direct her hips in order to receive more friction.

"Harry," Hermione sighed, running a hand down her throat while the other was splayed against his chest, "Shut up."

When they were done they checked each other over to make sure nothing was noticeable or out of place before hurriedly reuniting with the others. Hermione knew this quickie at the Burrow had been incredibly impetuous, just like the other instances of theirs she had cited, but she had wanted him something awful and had lost the battle in denying that urge. However, she had to concede that they were pushing the limit with their recklessness in satisfying their mutual indulgence and thought something had to change; if it did not, disaster was sure to present itself sooner rather than later. As it were, Harry enacted this change.

The sixth time was very different from the five previous times because it was planned out. Hermione had been accosted by Harry in the bustling Atrium on a Tuesday in the middle of February while she had been on her way to the third level, mind focused on the day's work.

"I know you're in the middle of something- I am too so this won't take long," he started, touching her upper arm. Once upon a time she would have wondered how exactly he had found her if not by chance, but Harry had revealed years ago that the top ranking officials in the Auror Department had a magical entity that was very similar in nature to the Marauder's Map. It was meant for Auror related business but Harry never had been one to really follow rules.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted, sidestepping a witch on the move.

"Can you clear up your afternoon in two days time? Have nothing on your schedule past noon?"

"Is there a reason for me to do that?"

"Yes. I don't want to say why but I'm hoping you'll find it's worth it," he attested. She looked at him with a baffled expression and then observed:

"Two days is short notice to cancel appointments and tasks, Harry."

"I know. But please- trust me. Do you think you'll be able to?" Harry added.

"Yes, it's doable I suppose…. Okay then, I'll clear it as best I can." Hermione replied.

"Great! Just tell everyone here you're working from home the rest of the day; I am," He checked his watch, "Ah, I've got to go. I'll talk to you later."

"Of course." They both continued on their original paths before Harry snapped his fingers and quickly turned around to face her again.

"Only tell Ministry employees you're working from home past noon. Everyone else… everyone else needs to think you'll be here all day," he relayed. The brunette's brows furrowed but he was already moving once more.

Two days later, Harry stood staring out at London through a high rise window. It was five minutes past one o'clock. His mind was striving to keep a dark, all consuming sense of guilt at bay yet it was only becoming increasingly difficult with each passing minute. This room, this hotel room, seemed to be a direct medium for remorse and self loathing because it was obvious why he had gotten it, what it stood for. It was a literal testament to the fact that he was cheating. Because that is what this was: cheating. Harry was cheating on his wife and cheating with his childhood friend.

Overall, he had been able to evade the majority of his guilt and shame the past few months by ignoring or minimizing, and it had been easier to look past because none of the prior sexual encounters with Hermione had been planned. But this time? This time there was no kind of ignorance to hide behind or weak arguments of "I didn't mean to!" This time Harry had planned, knowing full well why he had booked the room and what he intended to do in it. He had spent the last half an hour criticizing and berating himself for doing this to Ron and Ginny, and questioning the type of person he was.

As of right now, panic was starting to push against the perimeters of his brain. The last time Harry remembered experiencing panic was on Halloween, right after he realized that he had just slept with Hermione. This was a mistake, a terrible mistake. It wasn't too late to back out, was it? He could simply leave and the hotel could keep the money for all he cared. Of course, he'd have to find Hermione later and explain- apologize and explain- but surely she would understand! She herself had said they were being unscrupulous more than once.

"Oh my," a female voice uttered behind him.

Harry whipped around, jerked out of his downward spiral of thinking, and saw Hermione. She stood in the doorway with a purple scarf wrapped around her neck, gazing around the room in awe and incredulity. His heart sped up at the sight of her and he felt inexplicable relief as he peered at her; he had not even heard her open the door. The dark wave of thought seemed to instantly halt as he watched her study the room.

"Hermione," the wizard said, voice a bit strained. She looked to him.

"This is a surprise," she stated after a moment.

The brunette had not been expecting this. She had informed Harry on Wednesday night that she had been unable to be clear her schedule by noon on Thursday but had managed to free herself past 1PM, which he acknowledged. When she arrived to her office this morning, she found a note on her desk that had an address and a directive to announce herself as Melanie Goodall once she was inside the building. Her interest and curiosity had surely piqued and it was a nice change in feeling from how discontent she had felt all week. Hermione had spent a lot of time thinking about the situation with Harry: how insistent she had been that they end it and how quickly she had tossed her resolve aside. It made her feel pathetic and made her seem fickle, hypocritical, and lacking in conviction. She thought she had conquered it, had thought it would stick and she had control back. But that had been dashed not only once but twice since their conversation at the Ministry.

Hermione had told Harry they were confused but perhaps she had not recognized how deep and strong this confusion was. She had been absolutely positive they would move forward and leave behind their short lived physical relationship, but that had not lasted beyond one week. Her pull to him was now so persistent and insoluble that she wondered if magic was involved; perhaps it was the one thing to explain why they continued on this way with each other. Maybe they had enacted some unknown, old form of magical connection between them by coupling on Halloween, their bond serving as the antecedent.

The witch had told herself to begin researching this hypothesis as she left the Ministry that day in favor of meeting up with Harry at the unfamiliar address. It turned out to be a luxury hotel in (Muggle) London, and now here she stood in a deluxe suite with high windows all around and beautiful views of the city.

"Too much?" Harry asked.

"No, i-it's beautiful. I just wasn't expecting this." Hermione responded. He quickly walked over to her and enveloped her in a hug, holding her tighter than usual as if to make sure his dismal thoughts were kept in line.

"I wasn't sure what I was expecting, honestly," she murmured. She then noticed how he was embracing her, "Harry, are you all right? Is everything okay?" He closed his eyes, inhaled, and squeezed her before letting go some and moving to look at her properly.

"I'm… fine. I'll be fine. I feel much better with you here, actually."

And it was true. Harry recognized that she had given him reassurance and comfort just by showing up, by being in the same room as him. She lifted his spirits. (She typically did). Perhaps as a show of gratitude, he leaned in and kissed her and she returned it.

"Well it would've been a shame if you did all of this and I hadn't showed up." Hermione mentioned, her facial expression appearing softer now as she looked at him.

"I would've come to the Ministry and gotten you."

She smiled before disentangling herself. He closed the door and she took steps further into the room, removing her scarf, coat, and gloves. She had left her work robes at work.

"So is this where we're staying the next couple of hours?" the brunette inquired.

"Yes." Harry attested.

"And what would you intend we do, Mr. Evans?"

He grinned. Hermione had been cautious upon arriving to the hotel and walking up to the concierge desk. She had introduced herself as Melanie Goodall, as instructed, and was a tad alarmed when the employee had enthusiastically replied:

"Ah yes, Ms. Goodall! Hello! I am Jeffery! Mr. Evans said you would be coming so welcome, welcome! I'm not certain if he is here at the moment but it's no matter! The room number is on the key and it is on the 34th floor. Matthew here will guide you to the lifts and if you need any assistance whatsoever, do please give a ring!"

The surname of Evans immediately led Hermione to fully assume that it was Harry, and any vestiges of uneasiness had gone as she followed Matthew to the elevators.

"Lots of things, Ms. Goodall. Whatever you'd like." Harry relayed.

"Do you have a first name?" she questioned with a wry smile.

"Maxwell."

"Maxwell Evans... that sounds like the type to stay in a posh hotel such as this!"

"I wanted to play the part!," he claimed, still looking amused, "And there was no chance I was using my real name, Muggle London or not. Couldn't risk it."

"Understood, Maxwell," Hermione stated, walking over to him invitingly now that she was free of all winter outerwear, "Thank you for treating me to this fantastic room, but I think I'd prefer to spend time with Harry right now."

"Damn! Well, okay then. Let me know when I can come back."

"It may be awhile. I think we'll be busy..."

"Lucky bloke." Harry muttered as they leisurely embraced once more. She stood on her toes to move closer toward his face and he pushed some of her hair aside before closing in and connecting their lips.

He was going to do his best to see that they made good use of Maxwell's generosity.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione and Harry stayed in the suite until about 8pm. They talked, they napped, they ate exceptional room service food, they watched a movie, and, of course, they were physically intimate on a number of occasions. For seven hours, it was just them. Just them and the rapt attention they paid to one another, a comfortable level of happiness that neither had experienced since the entire ordeal had begun on Halloween. With both of them present, the room transformed into a haven that sheltered them from any negative thought or emotion and kept them solely focused on each other. For those seven hours, they were not Harry Potter and Hermione Granger-Weasley: they were two people with a long history and deep feelings that were being explored in new ways. It was also the first time in almost 15 years, since being on the run from Voldemort, that either had slumbered together in such close proximity to one another. It was the first time they had shared a bed since being 17 and it was lovely and consoling.

The inviting cocoon of the suite was so strong that both were sorry when they had to leave it. Harry helped Hermione back into her winter attire as she looked wistfully around the room and he took notice.

"We can do this again, you know," he stated, situating her scarf around her neck, "If you want." The witch peered at him.

"When?" she questioned.

"Whenever you'd like."

Hermione was silent as she gave it some thought and then answered:

"After. After... Ron's birthday."

"The second Friday of March." Harry asserted, knowing the first Friday was only one day after his friend's birthday. She nodded rapidly and he gave a half smile before placing a peck on her lips.

"Thank you, Mr. Evans."

"Thank  _you_ , Ms. Goodall, for such a memorable afternoon."

"Two weeks?" she prompted.

"Two weeks. Same room, same time," he confirmed.

"You know we will see each other many times before then?"

"Yes, but not like this. I'm already counting down the days."

Hermione searched his countenance before reaching up and giving him a searing kiss, hands grabbing his coat securely.

"That makes two of us," the witch noted.

Their lie was executed successfully. The Ministry employees had believed Harry and Hermione left early to work from home while their immediate families believed they had worked late at the Ministry. They had not been questioned or harassed and it gave them gumption to repeat the same fabrication in two weeks time.

Ron wanted to keep things mellow for his 32nd birthday. He requested a nice dinner out with his best friends, children, and sister, and a comedy show in wizarding Manchester sans children, both of which he received. His parents also hosted a brunch for him the Sunday after his birthday that all of his siblings, in-laws, nieces, and nephews attended and it had been pleasurable. Hermione seemed the ever attentive wife for the couple days that Ron's birth was celebrated but she felt notably different than any previous birthday of his due to her changed stance with Harry. In actuality, Hermione was not wholly devoted to her husband for his birthday festivities, not mentally, although she could have fooled most anyone. But it was markedly difficult being completely present for Ron when his best friend would not leave her brain, and all she wanted to do was haul said best friend off to a closet where they could have their way with one another. Consequently, she caught Harry staring at or watching her more than he should have during the brunch, dinner, and comedy show so she must not have been alone in her well disguised preoccupation.

Maxwell Evans and Melanie Goodall indeed met again on March 9th at the same London hotel and it was a torrid affair. They had given the same double lie to their jobs and spouses as they had last month and they met after lunch, although they left the hotel an hour sooner than they had the first time.

Harry had been unable to get the notion of Hermione having birthday sex with Ron out of his head and it perturbed him significantly. He had not asked for confirmation and so was not entirely sure, but he was making an educated guess that left him feeling restless. Hermione and Ron having sex was expected as they were husband and wife, and in an apparently happy marriage, so the thought of it should have been neither alarming nor vexing, but it was both to the Head Auror. In an attempt to banish the bothersome idea from his mind he made sure to channel the unwanted feelings into fervid sex with her, and fervid it was.

Their sex this time was strikingly similar to their sex at the New Year's party. It was aggressive, hedonistic, and zealous, and Harry exuded the same demeanor he had in the storage room. He was notably rough and dominant with her, spouting dirty talk that was incredibly arousing. Harry was, characteristically, a mellow, humble man. Despite his fame and achievements, he had never been one to be domineering, rowdy, or arrogant and he never would be; many people were shocked when they first met him that this legend of a wizard was so affable. However, he was also passionate and brazen with a harsh, self assured side that he would unleash without much thought. It was this second layer of Harry's being that had emerged sexually on New Year's Eve, that was present for their second meet up at the London hotel.

This bold, unabashed side did not come out on a regular basis when he was being intimate but it did show itself, and when it did it was particularly memorable. (His own wife could attest to that). After experiencing her fourth orgasm in the span of six different positions and a few hours, while she lay on her back breathing heavily as he marched to the bathroom, Hermione decided that she thoroughly enjoyed when this side of Harry took over. It thrilled her to great ends. And she, with her own naturally bossy, assertive nature, had no qualms in submitting to him when he was this sexually imperious. Her climaxes were enough proof that she benefited from it.

Harry had also experienced a new sexual act with Hermione, one that had not, perhaps surprisingly, happened up to this point. He had been able to experience the fantastic sensation of having his cock enclosed in her mouth, her perfect lips wrapping around and moving up and down his shaft. He had cum in less than a minute the first time she had given him head and, although it was somewhat embarrassing, the amazing feeling of her mouth made it difficult for Harry to be entirely embarrassed.

As it was now, it was close to 5:30PM and the room was darkened thanks to the large, heavy, retractable drapes covering the room's windows. Harry and Hermione were laid in the luxurious king sized bed and she was turned toward him, napping soundly, her head resting on her left arm as her hair fanned out all around her. He, conversely, was not sleeping. He was scowling as he stared at the ornately designed ceiling, a prisoner to his plentiful thoughts. Right after Hermione had fallen asleep some 20 minutes prior, Harry had come to a jolting realization and it was the culprit for his unhappy scowling. He looked over to the woman sleeping on his right as flashbacks of what they had done earlier zipped through his brain. The memory of her riding him in the jacuzzi sized bathtub and the feeling of the wetness of the water sloshing around them, making the experience more sensual, caused his dick to twitch. He then recalled having her bent over the suite's grand desk as he thrust into her vigorously, while Hermione breathlessly assured him she remained his good girl. That particular part of his anatomy stirred again.

 _No! You're the reason we're in this to begin with!_ , the wizard told his penis,  _You're the reason Hermione is now my_  mistress! Recognizing that his best friend was technically considered his mistress had been unsettling and alarming for Harry. His conceptualization of the word seemed archaic and taboo but, by definition, this is precisely what she was. It had wrecked him in the 20 minutes it had come to his mind. Hermione Granger-Weasley: Harry Potter's mistress.

It felt devastating to a degree. Harry felt that it was completely his fault, that he had failed her somehow- cheapened her, in a sense. He had resigned Hermione to this tawdry title and now his brain was working to furiously understand how he had gotten her in this position, why he continued in this four month affair with her.

The short answer to that was because he liked it. He liked being with her as she had once relayed she enjoyed being with him. Maybe he was enamored with her physically because of his lack of variety in sexual partners; Hermione was novel and enticing to him. Harry had only had sex with three women so far in his lifetime, his best friend now being the third. Ginny had been his first lover but there had actually been another witch in between the period before the two had wed.

Harry and Ginny had broken up when he was 20 years old for about eight months. They had been going through a rough patch made harder by their respective jobs, and they could not have afforded to pick one another over their budding careers at that point in time. During his third month of being single, Harry went to Amsterdam for the weekend with all of his Hogwarts dorm mates. It had not been planned for a specific reason apart from having a good weekend away as friends, but Ron knew his best friend was still somewhat sore from his break up and was happy the trip could serve as a distraction. Harry caught a blonde witch's eye their first night out and she approached him so she could lure him into coy conversation. Initially, he was rather hesitant in interacting with her but after prodding from Neville and an outright demand from Seamus, Harry placated everyone and engaged her.

It paid off as the witch, apart from being attractive, was easy going and genial, and he wound up going home with her that night. (This surprised everyone but especially Harry). He returned to his friends at 9AM the following day with a pleased yet humble smirk on his face and was bombarded by enthusiastic, proud friends who wanted to know more. His rendezvous with the woman was not a one time incident because she met up with the five for their second night out, and at the end of it she was the one to go back to Harry's room. Nonetheless, his two night stand did not go beyond that short trip. While he had immensely enjoyed his time with her and had been exhilarated to have good, unplanned sex with a pretty woman all weekend, Harry did not speak to the blonde again after returning to England, something they had both anticipated.

Current, scowling Harry blamed his sparse number of sexual partners for making Hermione his mistress and launching them into this tangled web of befuddlement.  _This_ is _all your fault_ , he thought, addressing his dick again,  _If you had been more proactive and slept with more women before getting married, we wouldn't be here right now!_  The Head Auror looked over to the slumbering brunette once more. She looked peaceful and content, which caused her to look unintentionally beautiful to him. Sighing, he leaned over and kissed her forehead, briefly shutting his eyes. He knew he was being ridiculous and his mind was seizing on anything that would make him feel better about the predicament. Realizing that Hermione was the other woman had caused Harry to feel panicked and terrible all over again, which was only a breath away from the dark path of shame and self condemnation that was familiar to him. He let his eyes remain shut as he uncurled his fists and tried to think of a much more neutral topic, something that did not make him despise himself. Mentally reviewing Quidditch statistics seemed like a good idea….

The next thing Harry was cognizant of was Hermione's face near his- her  _worried_  face. She was shaking his right arm with both of her hands and seemed to be shouting something but he could not make out what it was. He was disoriented. It took him a bit of time to realize that he was breathing quickly and unevenly and his heart was pounding in his chest for some reason.

"Harry!" Hermione cried urgently. Oh- his name! That is what she had been calling.

"What… what? What's going on?," he rasped out, feeling inexplicably on edge. He sat up rapidly, trying to peer around in the dark, "Hermione? What's going on?"

"Yes, yes it's me," she claimed, moving closer, "Harry, you were having a nightmare!" This shocked him.

"I, I was?"

"Yes... you don't remember?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head, "But I reckon that makes sense with how I feel." Harry's heart rate finally started to slow down as Hermione placed a comforting hand against his neck.

"You were calling out," the witch quietly revealed. He felt more, disturbing surprise.

"What was I saying?"

"Not much. You were yelling and said 'no' a few times. It was obvious you were distressed."

A gleeful, sinister grin. A pool of blood. A flash of blinding green. A handful of unseeing corpses. These all flashed through the wizard's mind at her words.

While Harry's heart had begun beating normally once more, dread filled his stomach. A nightmare. A nightmare about the horrors of the second war… he was transported back to being age 11, 14, 15, 17…. He remained silent for a long time.

"You still have nightmares, Harry." Hermione softly observed. It was not a question.

"Yes," he confirmed in a hoarse voice.

"How often?"

"Once or twice a month. Sometimes I remember them- I'm aware- and other times like… like just now, I don't. But they're not nearly as often as before, you know."

She did know. Harry had nightmares almost every night the first six months following Voldemort's fall. By the year anniversary they had reduced to three times a week but they continued to interfere with his psychological functioning. Ron and Hermione had also suffered from nightmares, the latter's primarily involving her terrifying ordeal at Malfoy Manor, so when Hermione had stayed late at the boys' flat one night, and Harry had come stumbling out of his room into the living room looking pale, wide eyed, and truly haunted, they decided the next morning that something had to be done. Their collective and individual trauma had to be addressed professionally, and by the next week they had (reluctantly, on the boys' part) sought help from St. Mungo's mental health unit.

Harry had been the most resistant to participate and initially refused to continue after two appointments, but after begging, shouting, reasoning, insisting, and Hermione's and Ginny's tears, he relented. Conversely, he was the one to stay with psychewizardry the longest: three years. As it turned out, his traumatic childhood had required its own year to process, and Harry knew that without dealing with his mental scars when he had, he would not be in as good as a place as he was today.

"I do too," the Muggleborn admitted.

"You do?" he wondered, peering at her.

"Yes. But we went through hell, Harry- it felt like literal hell. It's not entirely surprising to me they still happen. If we had them until the day we died I think it'd be normal, considering what we've been through. You especially."

"You suffered more than you should have, Hermione, much more. And because of me, every time."

"We're not having this conversation again," Hermione directed, thinking of Halloween, "I would do it all over again without a second thought if it was to still help you."

He gazed at her. The room was dark but not pitch black, and while he was not wearing his glasses he was able to see her clearly. This woman had been faithful to him and whatever scheme he had from day one and had done it without complaining or thinking of herself once. His heart swelled with affection and appreciation for her so suddenly that he felt his eyes water.

"Do you know you were the first person to show me physical affection?" Harry asked. He actually heard Hermione's inhale of breath.

" _What_?" she responded, staring at him.

"Yes. At the end of first year, when we were trying to get the Stone. Right before we separated when you told me how brave I was… you threw yourself on me and gave me this giant hug, as you love doing."

"You… you shouted my name. It's like you froze for a moment."

"Yes! I  _did_  freeze. I was stunned. As far back as I could remember, no one had touched me in a caring way until that day. Until you. I didn't know what to make of it, then, how to accept it. I surely didn't know that was the first Hermione death hug of hundreds to come!" he explained, smiling faintly.

Hermione felt her lip tremble and tears fill her eyes as she remembered. This man, that poor boy, starved of physical love for ten years of his life. No hugs, kisses, fond pats- not after his parents died, not from his horrid aunt and uncle. No wonder Harry had reacted that way to her decades ago, why he had appeared so alarmed. She knew most everything about his childhood but she had not realized that fact as she had never made the connection. Like a repeat of their very first hug, Hermione launched herself into his arms as she tried to beat back a sob. Harry caught her with a surprised chuckle but stroked her bare back as she clung to him.

"You've come such a long way, Harry," she remarked.

"Because of you. I had no choice but to get used to your hands on personality," he joked.

"Of course you joke!," The witch pulled back and gazed into his eyes, stroking his cheek, "No child should ever have to experience what you did." He gazed at her in return.

"No. But I had you after age 11, Hermione, and you gave me more than anyone ever has. You've done so much for me… I can't even put half of it into words. You are one of the best things that ever happened to me."

Her heart seemed to throb with emotion as she continued to stare at him. She then moved back in and gave him a burning kiss, letting a couple tears run down her cheeks. The depth of feeling she had for him after 20 years was astounding and also hard to put into words. His imprint on her heart was vast.

"What time is it?" Harry questioned, wiping the few tears from her face.

"Not quite 6:30." Hermione answered. He had not remembered falling asleep- that had not even been his intention. The Quidditch statistics clearly had served as a sedative for his brain.

"We have to go soon."

"Yes."

"Should we make use of this bed one last time for the evening?" he posited, slowly moving toward her.

"Yes," she grinned, starting to lean back as the result of his movement, "Although we didn't even use it for most of the time today."

"We found more exciting places in the room. No harm in that."

"No. Not at all, Mr. Evans."

"Glad you agree," Harry remarked, kissing her collarbone now that she was fully laid down, "Because bed or not, I'm going to put you to work."

* * *

The last Thursday in March was the next time, and the last time, the two would meet for a significantly long period of time. It had not been intentional- they had not planned to take a hiatus and they surely had not anticipated a brief squabble that would lead to it. But it seemed their confounded thoughts and emotions finally, completely, caught up to them and forced them to do something about their perfidious truth.

The idea of Hermione being his mistress stayed with Harry the entire month. It really changed his perspective about what was happening between them. Perhaps it continued to unnerve him because sex between them had happened often enough that she could be delegated as so, which led him to wonder how long it would continue. Did he want it to continue? The guilt and shame he had managed to halfway stave off since Halloween were much more difficult to silence now. Nearly five months later and there was still no definite, clear answer as to why the two continued sleeping together.

Hermione was having her own mental dilemma surrounding their dalliances. Her research about magic being a binding element of their intimacy had yielded nothing concrete or promising and this drove her mind crazy. She had been unable to find a logical or rational reason for their behavior up to this point and that was terrifying because of its implications. The implications, that Hermione considered when she was restless and lying in bed at night next to a sleeping Ron, were that she was a bad person. A bad, selfish, immoral individual who repeatedly hurt someone who loved her. No, not someone-  _people_  who loved her. That was it. There was nothing else on which to blame it.

The witch had recently begun thinking how she would have felt if either one of her parents had done what she was currently doing with Harry. If her mother had cheated with another man, if her father had been with a woman who was not his wife…. It caused her heart to ache. If her children or Harry's children ever found out what their parents were doing or had done… how horrified would they be? Consequently, thinking about their kids was simply too emotional for Hermione so she derailed that train of thought whenever it came around the bend. Were her complex feelings for Harry enough reason to justify her physical relationship with him? Of course she knew they were not, not as a married woman with a family, but that seemed to be all her mind could eventually settle on. What  _were_  her feelings for him, precisely? How exactly did he feel about Hermione? Was this merely a red, hot physical attraction spurred on by their strong friendship?

Harry and Hermione carried their conflicted, dreary thoughts and feelings with them back to the London hotel on March 29th, although they did not outright discuss them, not at first. They ate lunch at a small, listless Muggle cafe before going to the room and it had been a rather quiet meal, though not entirely uncomfortable. Conversely, their compromised mental states became obvious in their lovemaking, especially on Hermione's part. She was the most silent and disconnected she had ever been since she first started having sex with him. They had been mostly silent during their first time as well but they had been linked together in every way except words; now, she seemed to be in her own world as though the body that moved with her had no face, no name, no identity.

It took some time before Harry noticed her disassociation. They did other things like watch films and nap, as had become habit, and he had his own cognitive preoccupations, but when he did become aware of her detachment it was because Hermione was not looking at him. He loved gazing at her when he was inside of her and she always peered back, many times calling his name while she did. However, she was not looking at him today. She kept her head to the side or had her eyes shut, and her vocalizations were few and far in between. It was like Hermione was having sex with him because she had to, like she was going through the motions and not because she wanted it.

It troubled Harry. Substantially.

It was during their third time that he could not take it any longer. His end was in sight and he was somewhat desperate to have her engaged again, to feel joined with her. He should have facilitated a conversation earlier about the state she was in but that would have to wait a bit. Now he just wanted her to look at him as he neared his peak. Harry grabbed her jaw and turned her head to face him as his thrusting became faster, reminiscent of their first time.

Hermione's eyes opened and she stared at him but there was no wonder in her face to mirror their initial encounter. Instead, he saw a stiff, caustic look in her brown orbs that said more than she had since they walked into the room. Harry's brow began to crease as a stony look crept into his own eyes. His impending physical release only allowed his brain to process how she was staring at him to a degree as it gradually became hyperfocused on achieving climax. His grip on her jaw tightened unconsciously as he became incapable of stopping noises that issued from his throat. He managed to keep his eyes open and on her until his orgasm hit; his head then fell against her neck, his moan warming her skin, and she turned her head to the side once more while he involuntarily rutted against her.

Hermione moved from under him not even five seconds after he had finished. Harry, still breathless with a thundering heart, was bewildered when she used her hands to push him up before rolling on her right side and putting notable distance between them. He stared at her with an open mouth, supporting himself on his forearms. They were covered by the bed's sheets and she grabbed more to bring further up her chest. That had been the coldest reception he had ever gotten while being intimate, with anyone. It was clearly time for that conversation.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked, sitting up now that his breathing was back to normal. He sounded a little rigid, "What was that?"

"What was what, Harry?" she answered after a brief stint. He felt immediate irritation.

"What just happened."

"You got off."

The irritation turned into anger.

"Yes, and then you moved away as if I disgusted you! What is going on? You've been out of it all day!" he asserted.

"You haven't been mister talkative yourself!" she retorted, turning over rapidly in his direction and propping herself up. That look she had had minutes earlier remained.

"No, but I at least didn't act like the shagging was a chore! You were  _cold_ , Hermione. Cold."

She looked at the bedding and said nothing but frowned angrily.

"Something's clearly bothering you. Is it us- is it this?- or is it something else? If it's us, we said we would talk more about what we're doing instead of just ignoring it. Remember?" Harry reminded her, looking at her with a hard expression.

"Yes I remember." Hermione remarked shortly. She sat up fully now and put her head in her hands.

"So what is wrong?"

Her hands gripped her hair tautly while her face scrunched up.

"Harry… this is impractical. This is absurd! I have never felt so unsettled! There will be times when I feel good, even happy, when we're together like this but, without fail, it doesn't last! I always end up feeling awful and convoluted! This situation is impractical! We can't possibly keep this up!" she attested.

The wizard let out a sigh that was partially a groan and he got out of the bed. She had jumped right into the thick of it even though she was not incorrect. Hermione's eyes narrowed at this and she felt her body tense.

"I'm sorry... is what I said a problem for you? " the witch wondered.

"No. But it's just… Hermione, we've talked about this more than once and we-"

"Yes we have- so what? You just told me to speak about what is bothering me and this is it! Now you don't want to hear it?"

"It's not that! This specific topic is just beginning to seem pointless because-" Harry started. But she cut across him.

"Pointless?  _Pointless?_ Do you know what we are doing, Harry? Do you?," the witch bristled, "We are having an  _affair_! No conversation we have about this is pointless! Pointless is having multiple conversations about what kind of cheese to bring on a picnic! This is anything but pointless! It's necessary!"

"So something isn't pointless even if you don't come to any conclusion and keep talking in circles?" he replied hotly, annoyed at being unable to finish his last couple sentences. She stared at him forebodingly. The fact that neither referenced that he was standing near the bed totally nude as they were on the precipice of an argument was a testament to how serious this was.

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione posited evenly. He looked at her and actually drew back his head.

"Why am  _I_?," Harry repeated, sounding and looking disbelieving, "Me? As if you're also not here, not sitting in that bed completely naked?"

She had the decency to flush red but gazed at him with marked frustration. He did not understand how quickly they had descended into biting, clipped communication but it was hard to scuttle back now.

"So you're perfectly okay with this, with us cheating with each other," she stated.

"I did not say that," he bit out, "But a large part of me has obviously accepted it because I'm standing here in this room! I keep coming back. And so do you, so I don't want to feel like I'm the immoral one here. You cannot be on a high horse about this, Hermione."

"I am  _not_  on a high horse! I am obviously questioning our actions and it'd be nice if you didn't get upset or freak out whenever I do!"

"I do not freak out!" Harry snapped.

"Fine! Then you avoid it!  _I_  have been the one who starts the conversation about what we are doing and why we are doing it, every time!" Hermione pointed out.

"And? That doesn't mean that I don't have feelings about this! Or that you're morally above me!"

"I never said I was!"

"Well you sure as hell can make me feel like it at times! Seems like you have a knack for making people feel low!" he declared, throwing out his arms.

Tears immediately sprang to her eyes and she gazed at him, shocked. He saw her threatening tears and felt his breath catch and in the next instant she quickly moved as if to get out of the bed, on his opposite side. Harry promptly dove after her and caught her by her arms before she had fully left.

"I want to get up!" the brunette cited.

"Hermione," he commenced, pulling her toward him firmly yet tenderly. She struggled a bit, "Hermione, I shouldn't have said that! It isn't true. I know you don't think you're above me! I know that's me, my guilt. I know you are just trying to understand this as you try to understand everything. This is just… I know it can feel awful! I feel it too. This seems to be anything but simple!"

"Do you want to keep feeling this way?" She had given up her feeble escape attempt and turned to face him.

"No, of course not. But-"

But the alternative was to stop this once and for all and he did not think he wanted that either.

"But what?" Hermione prompted.

Harry did not answer. His expression turned sullen from his unverbalized thoughts yet he took his hand and leisurely fixed her hair in an affectionate manner. She waited but he remained silent. The witch shook her head and recognized the tears were still in her eyes.

"How do you feel about me, Harry?" she asked. His hand froze from playing with her hair.

"What?" the wizard uttered.

"How do you feel about me?"

Hermione had been wondering this most of March and figured it was the best place to start in determining what was to come of their predicament. If they could not get a hold on their emotions regarding their affair perhaps they should start with their emotions for one another.

"You should know how I feel about you, Hermione," he observed slowly. His hand fell away from her mane.

"Well, I don't, not since this first started!  _Everything_ is now confusing and uncertain!"

"I love you. That should never be a question."

"I know you love me, but, but…  _how_? You don't start a sexual relationship with every woman you love! I'm not the only woman you love outside of Ginny! Is… is it the same as Ginny? Has it changed since Halloween? Do you even know?" Hermione inquired, sounding rather anguished.

Harry stared at her, astonished. These were all valid questions and, truthfully, she may have been onto something.  _Did_ he know how he felt about her? Had it changed, or had it just been buried up to this point? Harry dropped his gaze as he realized that he needed to think about this.

Harry's feelings for his Muggleborn best friend were not straightforward, definitely not anymore. Before Halloween, Hermione had filled most every role in his life that a person can be for another human being. She had begun as his friend and, through the years, evolved into his conscience, sole support, pest, advisor, confidant, family member, colleague, philosopher, partner in crime…. The woman had been nearly everything for him except his love interest, his object of sexual desire. And even that may have been slightly questionable because Harry could recall wondering what romance with Hermione might be like a few times throughout his time knowing her. For instance, in fifth year, on occasion, when she had been his right hand for Dumbledore's Army, and surely their year on the run, during the period Ron was gone. He had always believed she was pretty and they had had tempting moments while hunting horcruxes that could have turned into something more if they had been explored further.

So after being with her for the first time on that night in late October last year, Harry had had his best friend in every way imaginable. And his soul must have rapaciously grabbed onto experiencing Hermione sexually, at last, because here he was, months later, continuing to sleep with her.

He supposed he felt every kind of love for Hermione that was possible: platonic, familial, unconditional, and, now, sexual/romantic. Harry surmised that he likely loved her in every possible way a person could be loved. And it had been gradual and not all at once; it had cultivated for (almost) 21 years and this is where they were now, as a pair, which clashed magnificently with where their lives outside of each other were. Understanding all of this caused a large portion of his doubts, worries, and self disgust to fade away, right in that moment. Considering Hermione to be his mistress seemed to not matter at all anymore- seemed preposterous. She was so much more than that to him.

"How I feel about you  _has_  changed, yes... since we started this. If only because it's made me see you more clearly," he murmured.

"And?" she questioned.

"A-And no- it's  _not_  how I love Ginny."

"Oh!"

For some reason, hearing this made Hermione's heart lurch unpleasantly. His admission felt rather painful and left her to feel inadequate, like she did not measure up. What had she been expecting? What had she even wanted him to say? Feeling foolish and vulnerable, the witch moved away from him again as a few tears finally fell over.

"Hermione, please- let me finish! Let me explain!" Harry requested, reaching out to stop her once more. She put up more of a fight this time and he ended up pinning her back down on the mattress as he hovered above her so she would not be able to escape. They both wore emotional expressions.

"I have to explain!" he noted, staring at her. She scoffed.

"Why? I know you love her so what's there to explain?"

"Yes, I do, but that doesn't mean I don't or can't love you too! Hermione, I love you in so many different ways! It's different than Ginny but you said yourself that our bond isn't even the same as the one you have with Ron! So, yes- I love you differently! Is that necessarily a bad thing?" She gazed back at him through wet eyes although she did not reply. Harry continued.

"Look, Hermione, if… i-if someone came to me tomorrow and told me that I could not have Ginny in my life anymore, that I had to carry on without her and that it wasn't debatable, I'd be heartbroken. I'd be absolutely devastated. But… but I could do it. It'd be one of the hardest things I'd ever have to do, but I could do it. I've done it before. There have been times in my life where Ginny hasn't been there and I've survived."

The witch was watching him raptly, surprise now mixed in with her emotionality.

"But if that same person told me that I couldn't have  _you_ in my life, that I had to carry on without you and it was also not debatable, I couldn't do it, Hermione. I couldn't. I know I couldn't. I'd fail," Harry revealed. His voice had broken and his eyes were desperate as they stared into hers, "I  _need_ you, Hermione. It's not a question. I wouldn't be alive now if it weren't for you so I don't think I can survive without you. You haven't left me or deserted me since you met me, not once. I need you in a very real way."

Hermione's tears continued as she peered at him intently. He could not see his life without her. He could not envision survival unless she was there. God… her head was swimming with emotion.

"You won't ever have to face that because I'm not going anywhere, Harry. I need to be in your life and I need you in mine, too," she assured him quietly, "But do you need  _this_? Do we? Can't we go on without it?"

"I… I don't know. I thought we could, that we'd be able to, but after our second time in my study…. It seems like I can't fully stop, now that we've been together like this; we both have said it's difficult and feels like some force we are being drawn to. I get something out of this, Hermione, out of being with you, a-and not just sex. I can't exactly describe what it is but... I'm starting to feel like I need this too." he remarked. She was quiet for a bit before speaking.

"So we just keep this up in spite of the guilt and betrayal?"

There was prolonged silence.

"How do you feel about me?" the wizard asked in a hushed tone, mirroring her earlier inquiry.

"You mean the world to me. You did before Halloween and you will until the day we leave this earth." Hermione answered without hesitation.

"Has it changed in any way since this started?"

"Like you... yes... I suppose it has. It's like there's a new facet of my feelings for you now."

He nodded eagerly, understanding her statement.

"So what do you think, Hermione?  _Can_ we go on without it? Do we need to do this?" Harry asked.

"Logically, I think yes- we do not  _literally_  need to do this! But in actuality I don't know either, Harry! I just know that feeling this badly is starting to drive me mad!"

"Then you have to decide if the feelings are worth our time together."

"It sounds like you have decided."

There was more prolonged silence as the Auror reflected.

"Yeah… yeah, I reckon I have. And I don't think I did until just now," he awed.

So there it was. After five months of this situation with the brunette, Harry had an answer. He had come to a conclusion. He would never deny the befuddlement and guilt Hermione mentioned, or the dishonor, and he would most surely wrestle with them, but he wanted to maintain this experience the two of them had fostered as he felt that it nurtured their specific connection.

"You believe it's worth it." Hermione observed.

"Yes. Because it's something I get to share with you."

"And everyone else? Our friends, our family?"

"You're not going to leave Ron. I'm not walking out on Ginny. We're not asking each other to do that. But I also don't want to leave behind what we've now discovered that we have with one another. It feels new but also familiar and it still feels very deep. And I know it's selfish and one million other negative things, but… but it's with you, Hermione, and I want to keep it. I want to keep as long as I'm allowed." Harry explained.

"Harry, the fact that this is with you is the  _only_  reason I'm still doing this. Because it _is_  with you and because of how much you mean to me! But maybe that's bad! Maybe you mean  _too_  much to me if I'm willing to do something of this magnitude, fully knowing how wrong it is!," she attested, both hands covering her face as her tears had begun again, "I don't know if I can accept the negative feelings as readily as you can! You know I've never been the most adept at handling emotion. I know logic and sense and they have failed me in coming to terms with this! I love you but it's not enough to keep me from feeling like I'm being eaten alive!"

He gently removed her hands from her face and cleared her tears with his own hands while she looked at him sorrowfully. He took his time in quietly tending to her.

"I think we should go for the day," he told her softly when he had finished.

Harry moved from over Hermione and pulled her up to a sitting position while she sniffed. She used the sheets to wipe away the remaining water on her face and he got out of the bed, going to the bathroom and grabbing his clothes (that sat on a chair) along the way.

When he returned to her side some five minutes later, Harry was dressed and carrying his wand while Hermione remained in the bed, nude. The only difference was she now sat on the edge, still wrapped in the sheets, and had finished crying. She looked up at him.

"I need time to think, Harry. About all of this," the witch remarked sadly. He could not stop the mild shock from showing on his face but resignation came shortly thereafter.

"I don't know how long, but until then…" she trailed off.

It was quiet for a long while. They stared at each other.

"All right." Harry uttered simply.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I understand."

He took a few steps forward and bestowed a firm kiss on her forehead, both of their eyes closing briefly.

"I'll see you," the wizard cited. Hermione peered at him regretfully, feeling rather dismal. This was going to be the first instance where they did not leave the room together.

"Harry, I-" she commenced, wanting to try to make both of them feel better. The mood had become melancholy the moment Hermione declared she needed time to think.

"It's okay, Hermione," he interrupted, shaking his head as indication that she need not finish her sentence, "I'll see you, yeah?"

"Yes." She felt like she could cry again and was hugging the sheets to her.

He nodded and then turned and walked to the door. A few seconds later, Harry was gone and Hermione sat, now, alone, twisted in the bedding, frowning as she fought to keep yet another wave of tears at bay.

* * *

The time Hermione needed turned out to be over a month. She had not anticipated taking such an extended period of time to mull over her situation with Harry but she was not going to rush the matter either. This was not choosing cheese for a picnic, after all. Harry also gave her the space she had requested, which she both appreciated and realized made her feel forlorn. (Consequently, he looked at the thank you picture she had given him of the flowers he had sent a few times during the week as consolation).

Harry's admission that he needed Hermione in a way he did not need Ginny was momentous. It was what the brunette thought about the most, in actuality, followed closely by her shame for having the affair. Harry loved the witches in different manners and, while he had married Ginny and had children with her, he had stated it was Hermione it would be impossible to live without. This caused her to evaluate how she felt about Harry and Ron. They were her two best friends, one of whom happened to also transition into her husband. She loved them both dearly- she had since being a school girl. Hermione, too, loved them in different manners. But if she had been propositioned by the hypothetical person whom Harry had referenced when revealing that he needed her, would she come to a similar conclusion? Would she be able to live without Harry, no matter how painful, but not Ron?

The answer was no. It was at the end of a Friday when Hermione came to understand that if someone told her she had to live her life without either man's presence, there was no victor. She would not be able to live without one over the other; she would be utterly unable to choose. Hermione recognized she needed both Ron and Harry, equally, on that Friday. Harry had claimed life was possible yet arduous without his wife, but it was impossible without the brunette. Hermione realized life was impossible without her spouse or her best friend turned accidental lover. And to her, that was just as damning and significant as Harry's declaration because she was unable to choose Ron over Harry.

It was like being at Hogwarts all over again.

And as a wife, should not the decision to pick her husband have been obvious, have been easier? But it was not. Hermione could not say she could live without Harry but not live without Ron because it was not true. She could not go on without either of them. To her, this was just as telling as Harry's assertion about the two women in his life. If forced, he had picked one; if forced, Hermione could not.

This revelation served as a turning point for the witch. It was when her shame and confusion began to melt away, leaving mostly guilt and distant sadness. It was when Hermione stopped comparing herself to Ginny or Harry to Ron or any combination of comparison of the four. It was when she remembered that her relationship with Harry truly was its own. It was when she reminded herself that her life or her position with Harry would never return to the way it had been before Halloween, no matter what she tried to think or do. It was when she admitted that a tiny part of her had always craved something more with her dark haired friend and actually achieving it had been more than she could have imagined.

Hermione realized that she missed Harry, as well, and missed him sorely. And of course the two still saw one another frequently and spoke and spent time together and of course they were still friends. But she missed having him completely, missed having time with him that was exclusively hers, missed experiencing carnal pleasure with him like having his lips on hers. She missed her physical connection with Harry. And she recognized that he had been right when he relayed that it was dutifully hard to forget or ignore their physical relationship once it had bloomed into life. It was like exploring what could have been, what they could have shared if things had happened differently. It was like giving reverence to their attachment, a visceral way of worshipping their bond.

When Hermione considered it this way, the shame had less of a voice, less of a right to make her despise herself as a person. Obvious problems surrounded their discreet dalliances but it was not evil, not done out of spite or hate. She had her own history with Harry, apart from anyone else whom she knew. Her connection to this man was special and intense, like the one she had with Ron, but different, so very different. Hermione was not indulging a random stranger, ordinary coworker or acquaintance- she was doing this with one of the most meaningful people in her life. In that sense it  _did_  have worth, as Harry had attested during their last time together. She could not only focus on what others would think of their situation because others did not entirely know or share the extent of their relationship.

Hermione would never wholly approve of what she and Harry had initiated but he had relayed that neither would he. He had merely accepted it while admitting that he wanted it- wanted it because it was with her. And after a five weeks of deliberation and contemplation, the brunette embraced the knowledge that she felt the same way too. It was with Harry and somehow that was enough.

* * *

It was May when Hermione finally went to him. She, Ron, Ginny, and Harry had gone out to eat one evening in Diagon Alley toward the end of the week and had been enjoying one another's company. A part of the dinner's discussion was what to do for Harry's birthday in two months time and the idea of their two families taking a five day vacation in Spain emerged as a serious contender.

Coincidentally, the quartet had run into Percy at the restaurant toward the end of dinner. They hailed him, asked what he was doing there alone (i.e., picking up food), questioned where Penelope was (i.e., at home with the children), and convinced him to join them in stopping by the Burrow to say hello, as they were going to pick up their own offspring.

"Come on! When's the last time you saw Mum and Dad, Perce?" Ron posited, shaking his older brother's shoulders as they stood up from the table, having just paid for their meals.

"Last week," he smiled wryly, fixing his glasses.

"Too long." Ginny supplied.

"I, er, I actually wanted to speak to Harry for a second, before going?" Hermione revealed, clearing her throat. She had been slightly hushed during the meal and furtively thrown glances the Head Auror's way at times, a few of which he had caught.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise as everyone looked to her.

"Uh, sure." Harry said.

"Everything okay?" Ginny wondered.

"Yes. It's just… something," the brunette remarked. The red headed woman looked a bit puzzled and amused before deciding to let it drop. She knew Hermione was close with Harry and the two had their own matters that did not involve her or Ron, so she was not going to press because this did not seem to concern her in this moment.

"No worries. Head to the Burrow when you're done! It's your duty as Weasleys." Ron instructed.

"Excuse me-  _I_ am not a Weasley." Harry clarified, smiling a bit.

"Yeah? Tell that to Mum and watch her heart break, Potter."

"Like there's not enough of you already."

Percy and Ron laughed while Ginny hit her husband on his chest.

"See you soon," she said to the other witch before taking Harry's hand and squeezing it.

"Thanks." Hermione nodded. Ron and Percy were already heading for the entrance.

When the red heads were gone, Harry turned to face his Muggleborn friend.

" _Are_  you all right?" he inquired.

"Yes. I just wanted to talk for a bit."

He looked at her. The pair's time together had been rather sparing since the last hotel rendezvous, a definite way of heeding her request for space. When they had been alone during the past five weeks, it had mostly been fleeting or in relation to work.

"Let's sit back down, then." Harry suggested.

"No," she negated, peering at him, "Can we… go outside?"

"Outside."

"Yes. I want a little more privacy, I suppose."

The wizard gazed at her a bit longer before nodding and saying:

"Outside, then. That's fine."

He offered his hand to her and she took it with a small smile, letting him walk them out of the restaurant as the owner bid them a zealous goodbye. Once they had taken a number of steps away from the building into the cool breeze of the night, Hermione peered around for a spot she deemed suitable.

"What about-" she commenced.

"No, not anywhere here. I've got a place in mind," Harry interjected. She peered at him, faintly surprised, "And it's still outside."

"Okay..."

"Make sure you keep your grip on my hand."

Understanding that he was going to Apparate them to the mystery place dawned on Hermione right as it began and she felt the unpleasant sensation of Side Along Apparition. She kept her eyes and mouth wrenched shut and a firm hold on his hand and the disagreeable feeling was over soon enough when she felt her feet hit solid ground.

Hermione opened her eyes and was met with the sight of a large meadow illuminated by the moon's light. It would have been much quicker to determine if she knew this place by the sun's light but she felt that it was familiar as they released hands and she gazed around her.

"We're not too far off from the Burrow. A 15 minute walk. Figured it would just be easier to get there once we're done talking." Harry revealed patiently. Ah. No wonder the field felt familiar.

"It works," she commented, nodding once and facing him.

"What did you want to talk about, Hermione?" He was studying her calmly and she had a feeling he likely knew the topic of her intended conversation.

"I… I've had my time to think, Harry. About us."

Silence between the two while they gazed at each other. The sounds of the natural environment around them swirled in their ears.

"Thank you for respecting it," the brunette mentioned.

"And what conclusion did you come to?" Harry asked, getting right to the point. She noted this and exhaled in a resolute way, hunching and then relaxing her shoulders.

"Has your mind changed about this at all?" Hermione asked.

"No, not really. I think I may… I think I may always want you, now, but I'll bury it if it's not also what you want."

The witch nodded absentmindedly, looking down at her feet at last. She did not offer any words.

"Hermione. Tell me." Harry directed softly after a long moment. She peered back up at him.

"Say it if you want it, right?" she muttered, referencing when he had stated this during their fiery coupling on New Year's Eve. He smiled and it was accompanied by something of a blush.

"Right."

"Harry, you are just as vital to me as Ron. In a different way, like you said... and not less- just different. When you said that you needed me I realized that I need you  _just_  as much as I need Ron, even if it took five weeks to do so. We didn't intend to embrace or love each other this way and it just happened, but it seems practically impossible to shut it out now that it has. And many of the negative feelings will remain, will always remain, but they're the expected consequences of keeping this...  _thing_ , with you, and I know that… that I want to keep it.  _That's_  the conclusion I came to."

He was expectant and stoic at the beginning of her explanation but when it was complete he was fighting to not let his relieved, thankful, and sad smile took over the entirety of his face. She felt as he did. She wanted this as well. He would not have to give her up... not yet.

"So this  _thing_ is worth it to you?" Harry quipped, failing to stave off the smile.

" _You're_  worth it to me," Hermione replied earnestly, "The fact that I've done off the rocker things for you since I was 11 should be proof of that."

"I know. I told you I wouldn't have survived, countless times over, without you."

He reached out and grabbed her hand, caressing it once in his grasp. As pleased as he was about her confession, he did not feel it was quite the right time to touch her just yet. (Or at least touch her how he wanted).

"I do think we should have a few conditions, though, to mitigate as much of the consequences and distress as possible," she relayed quietly, staring at their hands.

"I can see how that would be helpful," the wizard attested, "What were you thinking?"

"Well, for one… our homes should be off limits. Both of them. We've crossed that line at both and I don't think we should do it again, out of respect."

"I agree with that."

"It's also too flagrant." Hermione stated.

"Should the Ministry also be off limits? We've done it there as well," he pointed out. She peered at him and took a bit before answering.

"We're actually afforded a lot of privacy at the Ministry."

An amused smile played at his lips before he replied:

"So the Ministry is still an option for our  _thing_."

"It's viable," the witch commented in a matter of fact tone.

"So the loo on the second floor is a good choice?"

"Limited to our offices!"

He smirked, merely wanting to get a rise from her. There was a stint of silence as nature continued to flourish around them.

"I think we should speak about our spouses as little as possible when we're together in that sense." Hermione next remarked. He did not respond as he had for her first condition.

"I don't think there is any point, especially as actively considering them just makes us-" she plowed on.

"Spiral?" Harry offered, glancing at her.

"Yes."

"Yes…. I agree. Little to no mention of them."

"I don't think we should speak about our children at all." Hermione attested. There was an even longer increment of silence than when she proposed they speak sparingly of Ron and Ginny when together intimately.

"No. We shouldn't," he said at last.

"I just want this to be about  _us_ , Harry. That's what it started as and that's how it should stay." She was the one to grab his hand this time and was gazing at him imploringly. He grabbed her other hand and took a step forward, returning her gaze.

"Yes. Us. Just us. Our moments." Harry claimed. Hermione smiled, catching his reference to their conversation in his study about their bond after they had slept together for the first time.

"Do you have anything you think is important for us to do or not do?" the brunette prompted.

"Be smart about it, focus on each other... I think you covered it. Though, I must say, parameters for an affair? Sounds just like something your brain would come up with."

"You know it's for the best. And I can take it all back, if you'd like. Tell you to never spare a glance my way."

"Don't you dare," he ordered, pulling her against him suddenly and wrapping her in his arms, "I waited weeks to be able to touch you again."

"Mmm. Watch your cheek and your waiting won't have been in vain." Hermione noted. After weeks of separation, she reveled in the feel of being back in his embrace.

"You've missed it too."

"Maybe."

"So, may I?" Harry questioned.

"May you what?" she asked.

"Touch you."

He was staring at her hungrily and his heart had started to beat faster in his chest. His fingers had inconspicuously lifted the hem of her shirt and gingerly grazed the skin on her lower back. Hermione was also looking at him intently yet her eyes fluttered from the sensation of his fingers; she took an inhale of breath and unconsciously licked her lips, which caused his eyes to darken.

"Yes. Please." Hermione commented in a feathery tone. His hand quickly went to hold the base of her neck and his mouth was then pressing urgently against hers, and it took hardly any time at all for her to reply with an urgency of her own as she hugged him around his middle.

The pair did nothing beyond giving one another bruising kisses in the field for five minutes before parting, knowing it was time to make their way to the Burrow. They walked to the Weasley home holding hands and saying little but the silence was full of expectation and welcome. It held a palpable promise of more to come for them.

…

Leverage. That is why Harry had demanded the witch leave on her shoes before becoming physical- he used them for leverage. He had tightly gripped the pointed heels while driving into her insistently and she had loved it, gasping from how much more forceful it allowed him to be. (He also loved the salacious visual it helped to paint: her skirt bunched high around her waist, putting her lovely legs on display, while her heels were used as tools to fuck her properly).

The two were currently laid on the desk, panting and recuperating from the titillating sex that had only just ended. In actuality, she was lying on the desk while Harry was leaning haphazardly over her; he had disentangled from her and slumped down from being on the desk as well before his body had halted in his current position in order to wrangle some energy.

"That definitely made up for the fact that my meeting ran over two hours," he claimed.

"Being overworked pays off once every so often. Glad I could help with that," the woman responded dreamily.

"Always willing to help... just like the good girl you are." Harry murmured with a smirk, kissing the space between her breasts lightly. She scoffed in good nature and sat up, using her hand to push his head away from her chest and causing him to stand up fully.

"You have a saving people thing, I have a helping Harry thing."

"I know. You do help me in the most wonderful of ways!" He grinned and kissed her heartily (which she returned) before he helped her off his desk. She located her bra and blouse to adorn her torso again while he situated his boxers and pants and retrieved their respective robes they had thrown carelessly on the floor.

"I know this wasn't planned- it was a happy coincidence we were both legitimately kept late tonight. But do you still want to meet on Friday? In Brighton? Is it too soon to be believable that we need to work late again?" she questioned once they were both completely dressed. She sounded and looked a bit nervous at her inquiry. Would his wife and her husband believe their spouses had another late night of work in just a few days time?

"So we'll meet in Brighton in the morning instead of the afternoon. We'll tell the Ministry we're coming in late to work that day," Harry attested, stepping forward and stroking her cheek with his thumb, "I told you, Hermione: I want every opportunity with you that I can get. Still." He deftly kissed her once more and she nodded while kissing him back, melting a tad from his words.

"All right," she remarked with a half smile.

"We'll be fine. We always are," he assured.

"Yes. We always are."

As he turned off his office lights and made to follow her out the door, he peered momentarily at the calendar before leaving the room completely. October 30th. Tomorrow was Halloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the last part of this story! Thank you to everyone who kept up with this fic and found some enjoyment in it. I actually have another H/Hr story in the pipeline; this one will be a lengthy one-shot and it won't be "scandalous" like this fic because no cheating on either side will be involved.


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